The Bride of the Death God
by caledon
Summary: AU. A plague descended upon the village, and to appease the God of Death they offered him a bride as a sacrifice.
1. sacrament

A/N: Inspired by the manwha "The Bride of the Water God" and fairy tales and folktales along the lines of "Cupid and Psyche", "Beauty and the Beast", among others.

Revision notes: The full unedited and uncensored version of this chapter can be found at** the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

**Chapter 1: Sacrament**

* * *

"The plague has taken over the village―"

"―We really have no choice about it―"

"―We must do it―"

"―For the village―"

"―It's the only way―"

"―A sacrifice―"

"―Yes―"

"―We must offer a bride to the God of Death."

* * *

Such finery she wore―the best the village could scrounge up. As the oblation to the God of Death, nothing but the best had to be offered in order to appease the god.

Today was Orihime's wedding day, and yet on her face lay solemnity, and the procession that accompanied her seemed more like a funeral march. She pulled the hood of the red velvet cloak farther down over her eyes, not willing to see where they led her as she sat inside the rickshaw.

By unanimous vote she had been bestowed the honour of becoming the bride of the Death God. She was alone; her brother had taken her away from their family and into this village, and for a time her childhood had been free of the abuse they'd both suffered. And then she was made an orphan at her brother's sudden death by the very plague that ailed their village. As the rest of the villagers had not been willing to sacrifice their own family members, they deemed her the best candidate as she had no one to make an opposition for her.

Orihime herself had not protested. The only thought she had was that she would be with her brother soon, and that this way she could make amends for the harsh words she'd said to him prior to his death.

_Soon, brother. Soon._

She was surprised by the sudden trail of wetness down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it with her sleeve with a sniff. From what she could see of the ground and what sound she could hear, they were close to the river. _So it was to be a barge, then_, she thought. The rickshaw stopped, and she descended from it, walked down the way marked by the villagers on either side of her. She must be brave, strong, despite the uncertainty ahead of her.

As gracefully as she could without assistance (as she had her pride) she went on the boat, and with a push she was on her way with the flow of the river. Should she lay down? She didn't know how to proceed. By the silence that followed, she knew that no one mourned her.

Loneliness engulfed her, and with a heaving breath she allowed the tears to finally fall.

* * *

The sounds of crepuscular cicadas greeted her, and Orihime rubbed her eyes. She had fallen asleep, the gentle rocking of the boat had lulled her. She sat up, amazed to find that the boat was docked against the most magnificent building she had ever seen. The boat bobbed gently against the stone steps that descended down into the water. She rose, eyeing the white balustrade that surrounded the dock and the bridge, continuing to encompass the palace. A lone horned, white statue stood guard on the balcony at the top of the stairs, as though to intimidate any trespassers from entering the place. For being the house of the Death God, it was unusually surrounded by life: flowers grew along the columns, walls, awnings, and roofs; so much green and delicate blues, reds, and pinks in contrast to all the white stone.

The Lunar Palace, was what it was called, for this God of Death was also the God of the Moon.

Heart beating with trepidation, she nervously stepped off the boat and ascended the stairs, careful to not get the hem of her clothes wet. She eyed the statue warily, eyebrows crinkling. Was it a trick of the dusk light? She could've sworn that statue had been white save for the black trimmings, but now the colours seemed inverted: what had been a black mask with parallel white stripes down over its face was now white with black stripes, and the long fall of white hair now was bright orange, with the black tuffs of fur on its wrists and the base of its neck turned to red. It seemed as though colour seeped back into the statue as the sun waned from the sky.

As she got closer, she gasped, even more frightened than when she first saw it as she watched the head move. Beneath the white mask she saw eyes of gold with black sclera, and she realized that she had been mistaken; it wasn't a statue at all. Pulse quickening, her steps faltered as she half-turned, wanting to flee back down into the boat.

_But what about the village, and the plague?_ came the thought. She was reminded of her duty. She had agreed to become the sacrifice in order that they could be saved, and however engulfed she was with fear, she _had_ been ready to face death. She couldn't just leave and the let the village perish. It had, after all, accepted her and her brother.

Trying to even her breathing, she turned back and came face to face with the statue. _When did it get here?_ It had moved quickly and silently, and she barely had time to stagger back and scream when it grabbed hold of her waist and hauled her over one broad shoulder, and with a flash, seemed to have flown her inside the palace.

The wind got knocked out of her with the speed of the god's passing, and she could only clutch at its side in panic. Everything passed by in an upside-down blur, and Orihime thought the flight would never end until suddenly, without much ado, it stopped finally at a balcony of what seemed to be a bedchamber farther and higher into the palace.

Contrary to its earlier action, this time as it let her slide down its body, it was gentle, and she couldn't help the blush that entirely heated her at the full intimate brush of her body against it. She could feel her nipples harden, her pulse quickening to a different rhythm as it kept its hold on her tight against it. As she became aware of their location through her periphery, she could only now process one thought:

"You're the God of Death?"

Her voice was husky and tremulous; her throat parched.

It gave a single nod.

Her eyelids fluttered; the harrowing events of the day had finally caught up to her. Her vision of the Death God blurred, and she could only remember those piercing golden eyes being overtaken by the black, as she too, succumbed to its darkness.

* * *

Orihime awoke to the feel of hands on her. Eyes still closed, she felt exposed, feeling air against her skin. She moaned as those hands stroked down her body. Her eyes flew open as she became fully aware of what was happening.

Candlelight flickered in the chamber, the shadow of the god before her dancing on the walls and ceiling. Her garments had been ripped straight down the front, and the remaining tangle of fabric pinned her arms down at her sides. The Death God knelt between her spread legs, wearing only black hakama. On its chest was a circular hole with black lines raying out of it symmetrically, and despite those unusual markings, the god seemed an almost perfect specimen of masculinity and beauty. She writhed helplessly as it pushed against her, and she shook her head as she groaned out, "No."

As if in anger at her rejection, it planted the long horns of its mask on either side of her head, pinning her hair in place and she could only gaze up at it in fear. Above her, it moved its head, dislodging the mask, and she saw the Death God at last.

It seemed that doffing the mask triggered a transformation, and she could only stare in wonder. First it was the eyes: the black from the sclera ebbed, and with it, the gold faded to brown. The long curtain of hair flared out behind him before receding into his scalp, leaving him with short orange spikes. The deathly, marble-like pallour of his skin had taken on a more lifelike tan hue, and the black marks and red fur faded. Most inscrutable of all, the hole in the middle of his chest healed itself. The weight on her hair disappeared as the horned mask dissolved away.

His head descended to capture her lips, and she closed her eyes tightly. She frowned at the feel of his heart beating at the press of his chest against hers. At the back of her mind sprang the incredulous thought that a death god had a heart, and that it pulsed to match her own.

Could that even be possible?

* * *

Thanks for reading :)  
Dec/2010; revised 2012


	2. white

A/N: Wow :D Thank you so much for liking the first chapter. I'm really glad it seemed to be well-received despite my misgivings. Thank you very much to those who've reviewed/subscribed/favourited. I really appreciate your thoughtful comments. Although I can't promise that the updates would be quick, I still hope you'll also enjoy this chapter :)

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to its respective owners.

Revision notes: The full unedited and uncensored version of this chapter can be found at **the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

**Chapter 2: White**

* * *

_"This," intoned her brother Sora in a gentle voice as he pointed to a white figure in the book before him, "Orihime, is the God of Death."_

_"Death?" asked she, voice low and frightened as she stared at the long fall of bone-white hair, the milky skin and clothing almost indistinguishable from the other in their starkness. The horns and the black mask were the ones that scared her the most, as golden eyes―the only splash of colour on the black and white page―peered at them through the slit of its mask._

_Sora smiled ruefully. "There is nothing to fear, for the Death God, despite his name, is a god who protects. He is also the God of the Moon. One day, when heavy clouds covered the sky and the sun, and darkness came upon the world, he carved away a part of his chest and stuck it up in the sky so that the night would not be entirely dark. When you see the full moon, you see a part of his heart, and there's nothing for us to fear in the night."_

_"But what about the times when there's no moon?" inquired she, curiosity overtaking her fear._

_"Ah, those..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "On those nights, the God of Death also makes a sacrifice, a tithe he must pay to the God of Night. One day, the God of Night was angered because the moon shone more brightly than the stars and he thought that the balance of the world between the living and the dead had been broken when the Death God seemed more content to be the Moon God. The God of the Night demanded that for one night every month, the God of the Moon, the Death God, must not show himself up in the sky, and on that night he must perform only his rites and duties as the God of Death. So every new moon, the Death God takes a different form."_

_He turned the page over. On the sheet was the image of a figure in black: long ebony hair flowed behind it, and its torso all the way up to just beneath its eyes were covered in bandages. This one seemed as equally menacing and unsettling to Orihime. She flipped the pages back and forth, examining both. Though human in figure, there could be no doubt that it was far from human. If indeed it placed its heart in the sky, what then was left of it? How could it bear to live without a heart? She sidled closer to her brother for warmth as an unknown chill sent a shiver down her spine._

_"It's alright, Orihime," said Sora as he put his arm around her. "The Death God is..."_

* * *

Orihime awoke stiff and sore in places she'd never paid attention to before. She sat up with a groan, the blanket over her falling away to reveal her bare breasts. Gasping, she reached to clutch the cloth back over her as she surveyed her surroundings. The room, though white, was ornate and opulent, a motif in ivory and pearl apparent in the matching furnishings.

Here she was at the house of the God of Death, here to be his bride. It all seemed almost unreal. Though everyone knew it―he―existed, everyone worshiped him in their own way, and to have been able to actually encounter him face to face and experience what she had gone through at his hands...somehow made him seem almost human. Working as she did tending to cattle, and being almost witness to several trysts between lovers back in the village of Karakura, she was no stranger to what went on between a man and a woman. So when she was chosen, there had been talk amongst the elderly women of a wife's duties as a way to prepare her. They figured that the Death God, being in the form of a man, must have some urges (he must, mustn't he? It only stands to reason, having a form like that...right?), and well, they were sure he could find some use for a bride...somehow. And here, the village's ladies stopped to ponder: _What do gods really do anyway?_

_Answer our prayers_, pointed out another, and they all hushed and looked over their shoulders as though expecting an immediate reprimand from the god in question. Perhaps a sudden storm of fire and brimstone or a worsening of the plague.

She wrapped the blanket tighter around her as her body was overcome with a sudden chill, the silence broken only by her stomach's grumble.

At this, she was reminded that she hadn't had any meals at all yesterday. What she had perceived as a death sentence when she had been chosen as the sacrifice perished all thought of worldly needs from her mind, despite what the elderly women chattered about. After all, what else would greet her in becoming the bride of the Death God save for death itself? What could a mere human do for a god? The sacrifice entailed that she must give up her life for the survival of her village, so what would have been the use of savouring a meal? And with the way her stomach flip-flopped around yesterday, she doubted that she would've been able to keep what she was eating. But now, though still faced with uncertainty, she seemed to have been kept alive.

She bit her lip, surprised to find them swollen, and she made to move to get off the bed. She groaned at the pain between her legs, blushing furiously as she remembered what caused it. Orihime peeked under the blanket. Part of her wanted to convince herself it was all a dream, but her body stated otherwise. The marks on her legs, hips, and breasts; the tenderness of each limb and the stickiness she could feel between her thighs were all testament to the consummation of her marriage.

With a sigh, she finally managed to slide off to the side of the bed, still clinging to the blanket. Splashes of colour played at the corner of her eye. On the bed were the shredded remnants of her wedding garment, and she felt regret over the fact that the village's entire finery now lay in tatters. Worry filled her at the sight. Did she not please the god? Was that the reason she was now alone? Tears sprung in her eyes as she prayed that she did well in her duty and that Karakura could be saved. She mustn't let herself think that their sacrifices had been in vain.

Her bare feet touched the cold floor, and she gasped, toes curling from the impact. To her left, right beside a changing screen, was a door. As Orihime gingerly walked toward it, she could only hope that it contained clothes as she now had nothing to wear, and she refused to meet the god again (or anyone else, for that matter, for surely there ought to be servants and the like in a god's house, right?) garbed only in a blanket.

She was correct in her presumption as inside were various clothing in silken fabrics and rich colours she had never dared to imagine ever applying to her. She felt humbled at the sight, and she shrunk back. Even if she was now the bride of the Death God, at heart she was a peasant, and such things were beyond her. The villager's offering as her wedding attire had not even come close to the luxury displayed before her.

But the alternative was not at all pleasant either as she eyed the sheet wrapped around her. Maybe she could find the simplest one? She hoped such a thing were possible as she peered back into the closet.

And she hoped that she could find it fast as her stomach made another protest at its continued emptiness.

As she reached inside, Orihime realized that she couldn't very well dress herself in her current state. What would the Death God think of her if he saw her dressed in splendour and yet with both their essences still sticking to her? She coloured, feeling humiliated at the thought. Before everything else, she must cleanse herself. Hurriedly, she jogged away from the closet, hoping that the next door would have what she sought. An open archway adjacent to the room she'd just vacated revealed her wish, but it wasn't entirely empty.

A white marble basin on a raised dais graced one wall, and embedded on the floor was a matching pool upon which sat her missing bridegroom. Were it not for the golden eyes, the black tattoos, and the gaping hole in his chest where she spied the long fall of his white hair, she would have mistaken him as part of the scenery, he blended in so well.

She halted, embarrassed and shy at barging in during his bath. Orihime lowered her head, muttering apologies and peering at him under her eyelashes even as she slowly retraced her steps backwards. Somehow he was back to the form that first greeted her, but this time unclothed and unmasked.

Devoid of the bright orange hair, he seemed like an entirely different person.

She bit her lip, bowing low in supplication, but something about his demeanour stopped her tracks. She felt a pull, as though she was magnetized, her eyes slowly rising up to meet his gaze. _That_ was dangerous. Alarm bells rang through her head. A long blue tongue snaked out to lick his lips as he looked upon her with a leer as though she was a sumptuous feast, and he held out a pale hand to her.

Nervously, and with shuddering breaths, she stepped into the water, keeping a tight hold on the blanket with one hand while taking his proffered hand with the other. She fervently hoped that he didn't mind her getting his bed linen wet, but under the circumstances she didn't want to feel anymore exposed than she was already feeling. But that last shred of covering was all for naught as he quickly ripped it off of her and gathered her against him so that she sat straddling him, his lips swiftly descending on hers.

The clawed hand entangled in her auburn hair wouldn't allow her to pull away, and she knew better than to reject his advances. His tongue licked at her closed lips, seeking entrance, and she complied with a moan. She shyly stroked her tongue against his, hearing his growl of satisfaction.

As though knowing how quickly Orihime would flee from him when given the chance, the Death God kept his arms tight around her, stroking her hair and whispering soothing nothings in her ear. Befuddlement swirled in her mind; maybe it was because he was a god that he was beyond her comprehension.

As her throbbing heart started to calm, her stomach issued a loud growl, and he chuckled, the reverberations tickling her.

He sighed, and he assisted her from the pool as he saw how weak she seemed. Knees knocking together, it took all she had to be able to stand unsupported as he fetched a towel and started wiping her.

Releasing an annoyed growl, an odd echo resounded in voice as he spoke, making it sound high and manic. "I'd rather keep you to myself but I guess it can't be helped." A mischievous smile played at the corner of his lips. "Come. I've been remiss of my husbandly duties in not feeding you first."

* * *

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011; revised 2012


	3. know

A/N: Thank you all again for your wonderful response :D No words can really describe how very grateful I am for your enthusiasm and encouragement ^^

Flashback order: 2, **3**.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Revision notes: The full unedited and uncensored version of this chapter can be found at **the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

**Chapter 3: Know**

* * *

_"Play with me?" she whispered girlishly, eyes the colour of tangerines peering coquettishly over the fan that covered the lower half of her face._

_He snorted, rolling his eyes and pulling his arms under his head to show just how much he didn't care for her games. Boredom was a dangerous state for a god to be in, and despite her merry demeanour, he knew that that was exactly where she was at._

_She pouted at his response, closing the fan dramatically. "You have to." He winced at the whine in her voice. "Otherwise, you won't be getting any more of this..." Tone husky, yet arrogant, she leaned over and teasingly offered her lips to him. "...If you don't..."_

_He stared, leaning his head up to capture her lips—which she kept always out of reach no matter how much he tried to catch her—Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. The sigh that escaped him was one of defeat._

_She giggled, eagerly mounting him and finally allowing herself to be caught. When she surfaced for air, she held up to him a mirror ornamented with autumn leaves._

_"Her."_

_His perpetual scowl deepened as he gazed at the girl in the mirror. "What about her?"_

_"You're the God of Death, aren't you?"_

_Suspicion and wariness darkened his brown eyes. "What kind of game is this?"_

_She leaned down to lick his lips, purple hair brushing against his cheeks, eyes unwavering on his. "A game of life."_

* * *

Down the white corridor, Orihime shuffled a few steps behind the Death God. Wide-eyed and overwhelmed, she nearly stumbled over the layers of diaphanous skirts that she wasn't used to wearing.

She didn't think she'd ever get used to the Lunar Palace. It was too vast, too opulent, and he did warn her that she could get lost within its walls if she wasn't paying attention.

Ahead of her, his gait purposeful and brisk, walked the God of Death. He wore what she figured were the robes of his office: a white coat, tattered at the hems and trimmed in black, and a white hakama. The black mask was perched atop his head. Her brows furrowed as she looked up; the ceiling seemed to adjust itself higher in order to accommodate the horns.

As she followed him, fragments of a long-ago memory tickled the edge of her mind. She vaguely remembered a book her brother read to her when she was very young. It told the story of how the moon came to be in the sky, and showed the images of both the Death God's forms during a full moon and a new moon.

But last night...

What about the form he'd taken last night? The one colourful and bright, that made him seem almost human? She was certain that that form was never touched upon in her brother's book. Which of them was the real Death God? Was there a reason for his changing into that form? That one certainly seemed a lot more approachable than his current one.

This one was infinitely fearsome, a mass of latent rage that at any given moment could erupt and wreak destruction upon the unlucky one he came across. In this one's presence, her every single nerve-endings were telling her to flee, as far away as she could from him.

He stopped, as though sensing her thoughts, and turned around to see the huge gap that now lay between them. She lowered her head, averting her gaze. She didn't mean any disrespect, but she couldn't help herself. And she _was_ feeling weak from hunger and from their earlier activity, hence her slower pace.

The Death God slapped the wall closest to him, making her flinch in fright. It vibrated with his touch, so that when the ripple reached her, a door right beside her appeared, gaping open to reveal a dining room. She gasped, fear dissolving as her mouth immediately watered at the sight of the feast laid on the table, her stomach growling in anticipation. Orihime looked to him gratefully, seeking his permission. He gave a single nod, and she ran inside, clutching both hands in front of her, not knowing where to start.

There were bread, oats, milk, juice, wine, a variety of meats and cheese, diced potatoes, fluffy eggs, and many more scattered in trays and plates across the table, all arranged in a beauteous manner with colourful flowers (_Maybe from the ones that grew outside?_ she wondered). At the centre was a huge bowl of fruits, glossy and vibrant. Each were looking so inviting that she had a hard time deciding.

Tentatively, she plucked a grape and took a bite. A pleasured moan escaped her as she swallowed the juice that burst into her mouth; she had never had one that tasted as sweet. Laughter came unbidden as next she took some bread, nibbled at a slice of cheese, and sipped a sweetened juice from a cup. What an absolute delight! Somehow, the flavour of the food here seemed more intense than out in the real world.

She jumped when she found the Death God suddenly beside her. Though unnerved by his silent, predatory movements, she felt gratified by what he had provided for her so far. There could be no doubt that he was kind in his own way.

The God of Death swiped a finger inside a bowl containing some sort of brown cream and held it up to her. Taken aback at first, she caught on that he wanted her to taste it by the way he offered it to her. Cautiously, she leaned over and licked the proffered digit. She was caught by surprise as he suddenly dipped that finger inside her mouth, moaned as he languorously eased it back and forth, discomforting her.

"It's chocolate," he said in a tone as though he was explaining something mundane. "Do you like it?"

She frowned. Orihime hoped that this wasn't the way you were supposed to eat it, because it was really good and seemed like such a waste if it were so. And it seemed rather strenuous, at that. She had a hard time savouring the sweetness through his finger, even as she ran her tongue over it. She could only give a slight nod as he hadn't yet relinquished her mouth, even though the chocolate cream had already melted away.

Her lids fluttered as she watched him, moaning helplessly as he continued. His head tilted to the side, he had an almost dispassionate expression as he watched the movement of his finger in her mouth. His eyes, however, belied his visage as she saw a glint that had her fearing of being ravished right then and there on the table, especially now since his actions had taken on a sensuous air.

She tried to control her breathing and her rapid pulse as he leaned over and sniffed her neck.

"They flee from me, you know," whispered the Death God in a low, husky voice, making her shiver and pulled her legs close tightly together. "In the light of day, from sunrise until sunset, they never show their faces to me. It's a wonder I get any work done. They fear me."

Her brows furrowed. She was surprised at his words; somehow she was expecting him to say something related to what he was doing to her. And then, through the haze that was beginning to cloud her mind, she was finally able to process what he'd just told her.

_Who are 'they'?_ She wanted to ask, but couldn't because he hadn't yet finished his ministrations with her mouth.

But as before, he seemed to have read her thoughts for he answered, "Those who serve me. Those who've sworn to be my companions. I gather you'll meet them soon, at some point. I can feel them stirring, impatient, waiting for me to leave so they can meet you."

He licked his lips, sighed as though wishing the appendage in her mouth was something else as he finally plucked his finger from her.

"This is your home now. You're free to go wherever you please in my realm. As this domain is myself, I'll know where you are if you should get lost. There is no place you can go where I won't find you."

Orihime nodded, taking that as a warning, licking her lips as she brushed her hair behind her ear.

Almost gentle, he took a hold of her chin and raised her head, and gave her an uncustomary chaste kiss.

And then, in a swirl of white, he was gone.

For a long moment, she stayed in place, face still upturned just as when he left her. A million thoughts flew through her head, flittering like multitudinous dragonflies that she couldn't quite catch. Finally realizing how much her legs were shaking, she took a seat, lifting her hand to take a bite of the forgotten bread almost like an automaton.

Discomfited over the loneliness that lay under the words he'd spoken to her, she couldn't even comprehend his meaning behind them. Was that the reason why he'd so readily accepted a bride that Karakura offered him? Regardless of the plague that drove the village to desperation, surely, there must have been goddesses more suitable to be the wife of a god.

She felt a hitch in her chest at the thought, wondered if she really had any right to think in such a way, and started to stuff her mouth with whatever food she could reach, willing herself to ponder other things.

She felt entombed by the house of the Death God, found the ringing silence unsettling. Maybe she _had_ died, and this was the afterlife. She couldn't recall what the village believed regarding what happened to one after death. And she had not seen or sensed any other presence inside the palace.

But based on what the Death God said, the two of them were not its only denizens, and yet, the others would not even show themselves to the lord of the house―at least not until sunset.

Was that because he would be taking on a different form then?

It was a curious thing to learn that even other deities were frightened of the God of Death, but understandable, given how much his white form filled Orihime with dread. And if what she'd seen yesterday was to be believed, then she could see why the others would instead prefer the figure he transformed into at night.

After all, who wouldn't fear the God of Death?

* * *

After filling herself, Orihime wandered the palace. Ambling through the columned halls and galleries, stark white and sterile. It seemed as though the floral life she saw yesterday only confined themselves to the exterior.

Despite that, she was still filled with wonderment. Remembering the god's act that morning, she tapped a wall, waiting for a ripple, a change, for a door to reveal itself, feeling chagrined at even having entertained the notion. She realized that of course, since this was his house, and he'd claimed that the house was himself, it would only respond to his whims. _A perk_, she thought playfully, _part of his power_.

Sunlight dappled through the balusters ahead of her as she found herself finally reaching one of the many balconies that surrounded the outer part of the palace. Orihime sighed as she felt the warm light touch her, still disbelieving of her present circumstance.

She smiled as she touched the greenery that crept up the columns, eyes lit up with delight as she spied a pair of small six-petaled flowers rich in a turquoise hue. Delicately, she touched them, marveled at how soft and velvet-like they felt, plucking them almost remorsefully as she tucked them up to her hair by each of her ears.

Humming, she trailed her hand down the balcony rail as she walked, wondering if she would ever meet another palace-dweller. She hated to admit to herself how lonely she'd felt when the Death God left her that morning. And it would be nice as well if she could find something to occupy herself; she didn't really know what the duties of being the bride of a god entailed…_well, other than as a receptacle for his seed_, she thought with a blush. She shook her head, trying to will herself to disperse the memory of last night and this morning, but feeling all the more heated as she did so.

But the images, once bidden, would not halt: of his hands running all over her body, wringing a cry from her despite herself, of lips and tongue trailing through her skin, the way he seemed to snugly fit in her…

Orihime tapped both hands against her cheeks, closed her eyes tightly and shook her head vigorously, flushing madly at her body's traitorous response to the memory. Thanks to that, she now felt all hot and bothered, suddenly filled with an irresistible urge to seek him out.

"Are you okay?" came a feminine voice, a hand touching her shoulder, startling her and making her jump and scream. She felt as though she had been doused with cold water at having been caught in such a manner.

The interloper also jumped back. A small, slight woman with shoulder-length black hair stared at her with wide, concerned indigo eyes.

Orihime immediately bowed her head. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to yell. Please forgive me."

The woman chuckled. "It's all right," answered she with a smile. Her eyes roamed over Orihime from the top of her head to her feet, unreadable in their perusal. "You must be Ichigo's bride."

"Ichigo?" repeated Orihime, surprised and confused. "Who―?"

The woman tilted her head to the side, incredulous. "You don't know?" Her lips pursed, but her eyes sparked with laughter. "The God of Death. Your husband. His name's Ichigo."

Orihime stared at her, utterly lost. She never had once thought of gods having names. All she had known was that everyone at the village referred to the gods by what they presided over. So the god of night was called the God of Night, and the god of death was called the God of Death. But now that she thought about it, those terms _could_ be quite a handful to say, and the gods themselves wouldn't address each other in such a way.

On the subject of names, she realized that she'd never even had a chance to properly introduce herself to the Death God. Her cheeks coloured with dismay and shame. She'd never once imagined she would ever marry and that it would even begin in such a way.

"Don't worry about it," said the woman in an effort to allay her unease. "Besides, we only call him that at night." She sidled close to Orihime to whisper, "Don't ever call him by that name during the day, especially if he's in his white form. Bad idea. In his black form, we call him Mugetsu."

"Mugetsu?" mouthed Orihime.

The woman nodded. "But only during that time." She beamed, taking hold of both her hands and shaking them. "I'm Rukia, by the way. The Goddess of Snow. And also of the Arts." She spoke of the latter rather proudly.

A smile, the first one since her arrival, grew shyly upon her lips. "I'm Orihime. I'm very pleased to meet you."

* * *

APPENDIX

Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon (transforms into the black form, Mugetsu, during the new moon, and into the white form during the nights the moon is visible in the sky)

End note: I know Mugetsu's actually the attack name...but since Mugestu means "moonless sky" or "no moon", and that form in this fic represents the night of the new moon, in context it's better than Getsuga (moon fang) ^^;

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011; revised 2012


	4. belonging

A/N: You guys seriously rock. I find your thoughtful comments insightful and inspirational. My hearty thanks to all of you :)

Flashback order: 2, 3, **4**.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite

**Chapter 4: Belonging**

* * *

_"I'm sorry," sobbed she, clutching at the cold and lifeless hand of her brother. "Sora, I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me."_

_He wondered at the despair he felt at the sight of his sister's mourning. He lightly tugged at the chain stuck to his chest, wanting to unite with his body so that he could comfort Orihime, but knowing that it was impossible._

_"Don't cry, Orihime," whispered Sora, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. "Please don't cry. You're not alone. I'll always be with y―" He stopped, and closed his eyes tightly as he realized he couldn't make a promise that he wouldn't be able to keep._

_"I'm sorry I had to leave you so soon," he amended, sniffing, surprised to find that in this state he was able to weep. Lips trembling, he shakily wiped his cheeks._

_If he could bring himself to, he would laugh bitterly at the scene before him: of him lamenting over his sister, of her grieving over him. It seemed that no matter what, tragedy befell her life, and this time he wouldn't be able to just whisk her away from her pain like he did once before._

_All of a sudden, a heavy, stifling presence descended upon the room. A black figure materialized out of nowhere and stood behind his sister. Black swirls, seemingly emitted from its right arm, constantly flew around it. He recognized the ebony hair and the bandages that covered part of its body. Fear and awe warred within him at the sight, of a story he'd once told his sister come to life._

_He saw it reach out to stroke Orihime's hair._

_"You?" cried Sora, running to the figure and falling at its feet, clutching it tightly as he kissed the hem of its robe. Desperate sobs escaped him as he supplicated. "O God of Death, as you come to usher me from this world, I pray for your mercy. Please...please...grant your grace and protection upon my sister...Please, take care of my sister, she has no one else in this world. Please, I beg of you. Protect her! Orihime..."_

_Tearfully, he raised his head and met its pitiless gaze. The blackness that hovered over it converged and suffused, descending upon him._

_And Sora knew no more._

* * *

"You know," spoke Rukia as she popped a piece of orange in her mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly, "it's not every day that Ichigo accepts a bride. Never, in fact."

They sat in a gazebo overlooking a lake for tea against the backdrop of the late afternoon sky awash with spectacular autumnal shades. The table at its centre seemed to have already been set up for them, much like that morning for breakfast at the dining room.

All day, the Goddess of Snow led her through the palace grounds, showing her the library, the main hall, the conservatory, and one of the myriad gardens. Everywhere they went were as equally grand and lavish as the last.

"So, it really is quite a surprise," she continued, nibbling on a sliced peach. "Not that prospects didn't come up on occasion, but for him to actually consent to one...it's really unprecedented."

Orihime's chewing slowed, suddenly finding the strawberry hard to swallow. She didn't know why her heart suddenly started throbbing so fast over this news. For her to be the first...? What did that mean exactly? Why her? She knew that the Death God could just as easily have rejected her as an offering and sent her back on the boat, and that the village would immensely suffer for it.

On seeing her dejected and confused expression, Rukia quickly said, "It's a welcome change. Even though we don't really like him during the day―since putting his heart up in the sky renders him heartless and quite unbearable to live with―we do worry, especially since we haven't really been seeing much of him at night for the last little while. It's not easy being the God of Death; when he gets in a certain mood, plagues happen. More deaths, which means more work for him."

Orihime gasped.

"I'm sorry," apologized Rukia. "I didn't mean to sound crass. I was just trying to explain how he works."

Orihime lowered her eyes, unseeing of the cheese she was shredding on her plate. Was that what caused the plague and her brother's death? One of his moods? Somehow, learning that that could be the reason didn't bring her any comfort. It only emphasized the callousness the gods had toward the humans whose lives they constantly toyed with.

"You know," began Rukia when she couldn't stand the silence anymore. "I kind of see now why he prefers being the Moon God; it's a pretty easy job since all he has to do is stick a piece of himself in the sky.

"Me on the other hand, all those snowflakes have to be individually designed by me. And coming up with millions and millions of them isn't easy, let me tell you." She eyed the newcomer from her periphery, hoping what she said cheered her up a bit. She sighed dramatically as though burdened by her divine duty. "It's one of the reasons why I'm also the Goddess of the Arts."

"And a fine Goddess of the Arts you are," interjected a muscled man with a tattooed forehead, his long red hair tied at the back of his head. He leaned down to kiss Rukia on her cheek and then sat in the chair next to her.

"Renji!" exclaimed Rukia. "You're back. This is Orihime, Ichigo's new bride. Orihime, this is my husband, Renji."

"Hello," greeted Orihime with a small smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," nodded Renji as he filled his plate.

"Are you a god too?"

He stopped and thought for a moment while Rukia eyed him curiously. "Yes," he finally answered, hesitantly. "It's a long story."

"Oh." Orihime tried to remember if she'd ever seen him in her brother's book, but it was so long ago that she had a hard time recalling.

"So, what did the God of Winter say?" inquired Rukia of her husband.

He held up a finger while he quickly finished chewing. "He said that he agrees to the schedule you'd worked out regarding the production of snowflakes in time for winter. He also said he'll be sending you a message containing the calendar of the days when he'd planned for snowfall and that you need to let him know if the distribution would work out for you on those days."

"Hmm...Did he say when I'm to expect the calendar?"

"In three days."

Rukia sighed. "Alright, then." She turned to Orihime and addressed her curious expression over their exchange. "Every year the God of Winter and I work together. Since I design the snowflakes that fall during that season, he has to give me time to prepare them, so we're always figuring out a schedule that would benefit us both. If I don't provide the flakes, then it's a snow-free winter, and that doesn't agree well with him."

Orihime nodded, not really understanding everything. She'd never really thought much about where snowflakes came from. But now that its main producer was before her, she still had a hard time comprehending it.

Rukia smiled, before reaching for her cup to drink from it. She took Orihime's hand. "I almost forgot: in case you need us, our quarters are on the southern end of the palace."

"Thank you."

"It's easy enough to find, you only think where you need to be and the palace will accommodate you. Same thing if you need anything: just think of it and it will appear."

"Oh, I don't think I can do that."

"Sure, you can. Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I'm only human."

"So?"

"I don't have any powers."

"Huh. You know, I never really thought about that. But you'll never know for sure until you try."

Orihime smiled at Rukia's encouragement. Maybe she was going about it wrong earlier as she wasn't really specifying anything in her thoughts when she tapped a wall.

"Well, I'll still show you around anyway," continued Rukia after taking another sip from her goblet. "I know this place is a lot to cover, so that'll give us something to do over the next few days."

"I'd really like that. Thank you."

She giggled giddily, drinking some more from her cup. "You're so polite. But I like that. I really like you. I'm glad he seems to have chosen someone good, after being with that, um, whoever. You know, I never liked her at all. Did you like her, Renji? She was such a bad influence on him. I'm glad he got rid of her. And by that, I meant, he broke things off and not, you know...Although, maybe he should have had. But then, breaking up caused him to be in such a mood...and I just never thought he'd actually marry to retaliate. Ah, my thoughts are ahead of me. And this wine is really good. Renji, have you tried this? Anyway, Orihime, I never thought Ichigo would leave you alone this morning. I couldn't wait to meet you when I heard the news. But then he had to go and keep you to himself all night. I hope he wasn't too rough with you? The walls were ringing with your screams, that Ichigo should really have learned to control himself better. Was he trying to show off? What's with this wine, seriously? Will you pour me some more, Renji? It's closer to you."

Renji was choking during her whole tirade, patting his chest as he struggled not to laugh. "I think you've had enough, Rukia."

Orihime stared wide-eyed at her new-found friend, all the more confused by the rambling that she didn't know which new piece of information to react to. All she knew was that it was suddenly very hot, and that she was wishing for the ground to open up and swallow her.

"No, I haven't. Orihime, will you pour some for me, please?"

Feeling an obedient compulsion overtake her due to a goddess's request, it was still with great trepidation that she reached for the jug, only to be surprised to find it light. She looked inside, relief overcoming her. "I'm sorry, Rukia, it's empty."

Rukia upended her cup, disappointed that not even a single drop fell from it. She sighed. "Oh well. That's alright, I guess."

Renji sent Orihime a wink and a smile before continuing his meal.

_Did he do that?_ Orihime wondered. _Wished for the drink to disappear?_ Whatever it was, she was really grateful as she didn't think she would be able to endure more of Rukia's babble, caused by whatever it was she drank.

Being in the presence of gods, she really felt out of place.

Raising a piece of the ruined cheese up to her mouth, she chewed perfunctorily, worry upon her brow. _What could she mean?_ she thought. _Marry in order to retaliate?_ She fought against the sudden sting of tears, blinking rapidly to abate them. She couldn't help feeling as though she was being played with.

"I think you've upset the new mistress of the house," came a voice. She turned. A figure clad and caped in white and blue approached them, the waning sunlight glinting off the spectacles over his eyes.

She pasted a bright a smile on her face in an effort to negate his words. "Hello," she greeted, glad that there was no evidence of disquiet in her voice.

"Orihime, this is Uryu, the God of Archery," introduced Rukia.

He bowed before them, gesturing an inquiry about an empty seat.

Rukia waved her hand in answer, and he sat down gratefully, helping himself to the food that lay before them.

"I take it that you've just now come back from smiting that human you were speaking of the other day?" inquired Rukia.

Uryu stiffened, a cup halfway up to his mouth. "How dare a mere mortal take the pride of a Quincy lightly?" he said by way of a reply, incensed at the reminder, before sipping his drink. "As the Quincy's patron god, I must mete out our justice and punish those who would dare injure it. Only a fool would believe there is no consequence in offending a god's honour. You know as well as I that there's a time to be gracious and a time to be merciless. What kind of gods are we if cannot protect our integrity?"

"You say that, and yet, the Goddess of Autumn still remains free."

"And I don't see you doing anything to the contrary either. You claim to dislike her and yet you simply watched her cause such a..." He sighed, eyeing Rukia and Renji. "As did the rest of us. Besides, she belongs to the God of De―ow!" He frowned, rubbing at the leg that earned a kick from the Goddess of Snow. He made as if to retort, but then saw the meaningful, subtle gaze she was directing at their new companion. He caught on, and he cleared his throat, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"How are you faring, my lady?"

Orihime started, alarmed, knowing she'd just witnessed a revelation of sorts. She realized by the way that Rukia bristled impatiently that they couldn't wait to pursue the discussion further, of mortals as pawns in the games that gods played, and as a mortal herself, she felt utterly excluded and helpless.

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you," she managed, punctuating it with a small laugh to show that there was really no need for him to ask any more questions along those lines. Although she had gotten her wish for companions, she had begun to feel stifled, wishing to be back to the white chamber, wanting to excuse herself from their presence.

Not for the first time since she'd arrived at the house of the God of Death, she wondered how had she come to be in such a situation. She didn't really know what she was expecting when she'd agreed to the sacrifice, but even still, she felt all the more bewildered as the day passed by and met more gods.

And despite herself, a sudden uncontrollable longing for the Death God filled her.

Putting her hands on the table, she rose. "I...I'm really glad to have met you all. Is it alright if I leave? I'm sorry that it's so soon but I'm really tired."

The three stared at her, one fascinated, one concerned, and one unreadable.

It was Renji who finally spoke. "Go ahead. Will you be able to find your way?"

She nodded. "I think so, thank you. If you'll pardon me. Good evening."

She turned and walked up the path that led back to the house of the Death God. Up the steps, into the double doors, and down the hallway she went. She felt tears welling up inside her, and she didn't really care where her feet took her.

Why was it, that even among other people, she felt alone?

She felt a huge gap separating her from them, an unbridgeable chasm between the human and the divine, and she wondered once again what it was she was supposed to do here: What was her purpose? Wasn't she supposed to die?

Furiously swiping at her eyes, she stopped as she turned a corner. Halfway down the corridor, against the wall leant the one they referred to as Ichigo. Her husband.

At the sight of her, in swift strides he stood before her, brown eyes indecipherable. He lifted a hand, calloused and tanned, and ran it through her hair, before drawing her head down to rest against his chest and wrapping the other around her waist.

Unable to relax, her own heart played an aberrant, staccato rhythm at his display of comfort.

Why was he doing this?

Why her?

* * *

APPENDIX

Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Renji - formerly a Scribe (servant to the gods), now a god by association for marrying a goddess  
Uryu - God of Archery  
Mystery Woman - Goddess of Autumn  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011


	5. black

A/N: Wow *blinks* Over 100 reviews? You guys are truly wonderful, and I'm really happy and grateful that you're supportive of and enjoying this story! This chapter is dedicated to all of you :)

Flashback order: 2, 3, **5**, 4.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Revision notes: The full unedited and uncensored version of this chapter can be found at **the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

**Chapter 5: Black**

* * *

_In the forest at the outskirts of the village, he watched a white panther stalking an auburn-haired young woman clad in a red tattered cloak who'd set out to gather healing herbs for her sick brother._

_Beneath the mask, his eyes narrowed. He crouched upon a high branch of a tree, limbs tensed and ready. He then flew swiftly forth when he saw that panther suddenly swipe at the human, slamming her against a tree and rendering her unconscious. He landed on the ground, his horns hooking on the underside of the big feline and throwing it away from its prey. It rolled into a ball as it flew through the air, transforming as it somersaulted. It landed on its hind legs, a mane of blue hair swinging behind it, a shiny, narrow grin gracing its lips._

_It laughed. "So it's true then, what_ she _told me." It shook its head, incredulous. "I never thought it would happen to you, of all things."_

_"She's got a big mouth on her," responded he, black sword materializing in his right hand._

_They circled each other. He was careful to keep the girl behind him within easy reach as he moved._

_"And we both know just how much now, don't we?" It gave a derisive chuckle._

_"I see she's got you under her thrall."_

_It snorted. "Don't put me in the same level as you. As if she could control me, the God of Destruction, like she controlled you. Shows how much of a pussy you really are. And you call yourself the God of Death." It spat._

_"Your time to die may not be today, but I_ will _come for you someday, as all things eventually, inevitably, will fall under my dominion. Even gods." An ominous red light started to gather between the tips of his horns. He lowered his head to prepare to fire._

_"You think I'm scared of you?" Blue eyes glinting malevolently, the panther-god crouched, claws extending at the ready. It licked the canines that grew past its lips. "Let's see just how far you've fallen."_

_And it pounced._

* * *

Over the following fortnight, Orihime discovered that the size and shape of the hole in the Death God's chest corresponded with the cycle of the moon in the sky.

As the subsequent nights showed the gibbous moon wind to the crescent, so was it reflected on his chest during the day, the hole gradually healing itself―to which Rukia rejoiced, as this meant that his white form was regaining his heart day after day, becoming more agreeable to live with and easier to approach.

It was a curious thing to witness; he was ever-changing, yet constant. And she found that she was gradually getting used to his ways as by nights and the early hours of the morning her body belonged to him.

And although she still felt lost, Orihime had come to get used to life within the house of the God of Death.

By day, as he went about his duties, she spent most of the time with Rukia. The Goddess of Snow showed more of the palace to her: the throne room that remained empty as Ichigo never accepted any guests; spacious quarters that were reserved for the guests that were never permitted audience; the wing of the palace granted as Renji and Rukia's living space; and also of the lavish accommodations given to the God of Archery.

The one place Orihime noted was missing was the kitchen, and Rukia explained that the house itself provided for its occupants, and Ichigo himself preferred not to keep any attendants even if other gods did so in their own domiciles.

A day found her helping Rukia design snowflakes in her chamber. Although her brother taught her how to read and write, she found the task of drawing daunting. Hand shaky as she put quill to paper, every now and then she'd glance over at Rukia's progress only to be amazed at the amount of work that the Snow Goddess was able to procure in such a short time.

Rukia, though, would give her a smile of encouragement as she peered to appraise her work, approving of some, and teaching her how to better her hand at others.

As evening changed the hue of the sky, Rukia stretched, releasing her body from the vigil of a day's work. She invited Orihime to sup with her at the dining table where there appeared pheasant, veal, lamb, and various salads and fruits.

"I see you've taken quite a liking to those flowers," conversed the goddess as she popped a grape in her mouth.

Orihime put her cup down, and shyly traced a finger over the blue flower by one of her ears. "They are very beautiful. And, somehow, they've remained fresh all through these weeks since I plucked them."

"Indeed? Well, then, they must have taken quite a liking to you instead."

The auburn-haired laughed. She'd worn the flowers in her hair everyday since that first morning, marveling at how they've stayed as though still in bloom. _They must be part of the magic of the house_, she'd thought, worriedly wondering if they would wilt if she should leave the premises. She would ever be remorseful if that was the case, though she realized that that thought was unnecessary as the palace in all her wanderings have not revealed a gate to the outside world.

Staring at Rukia, she marveled at how she came to gain such a friend who greatly helped in easing her adjustment to her new life. She felt hindered, though, by her lack of childhood recollection on how came the goddess to be married. Surely it ought to have been a well-renowned event since she was a goddess, after all. Curiosity furrowed Orihime's brow but she was loathe to broach the matter in case it was something the goddess didn't want to share.

On seeing her expression, Rukia asked, "What is it?"

Orihime shook her head, trying to purge the question from her eyes and seeking out a way to pull the direction of the goddess's sudden attention elsewhere.

She didn't have to do anything of the sort though, as countless black butterflies fleeted in through the opened windows toward Rukia, effectively distracting her by their sheer number. Frowning, the Goddess of Snow allowed one of them to perch on a finger, head tilted to the side as she listened to something only she could hear. She shook her head as she eyed the rest of the fluttering insects that surrounded them.

With a wave of a hand, she shooed them away, and they converged to the adjoining room.

Rukia gave Orihime a tight smile, reaching over to munch on a cubed piece of lamb. "I suppose you're wondering about Renji and me?" she inquired, eyes dancing with mirth, the bothersome message she'd received entirely cast aside if not forgotten.

"Oh no, not at all," denied Orihime, waving both hands in front of her.

"Come now," laughed Rukia. "I know you've been curious about it for some time. You may ask anything about it."

Orihime worried her lower lip between her teeth. "It's just that...your marriage isn't common knowledge, and I've been wondering why. It should, shouldn't it? Gods marrying is something that everyone knows about."

"Ah," sighed Rukia as she finished a diced potato. "It's because the Scribes of the Gods are still chronicling the event, and it must meet the approval of my brother, the God of Spring. It takes a lot to impress my brother, though, that's why it's taking the Scribes such a long time."

"I see," said Orihime, nodding her head in understanding. "I must admit that I can't recall ever knowing any gods that look like Renji in my brother's book. I was trying so hard to remember."

"It's alright. Renji is only a god by association. He was granted godhood when we married. He's not presiding over anything, though, at least not currently."

"I understand," replied Orihime with a smile. "So was he a human before?"

The goddess shook her head. "He was an immortal, a member of the race of beings who serve gods. He was..." Rukia sighed, eyes twinkling at the remembrance, "quite magnificent then, and even more so now, I think. He was likened to a stray dog barking at the moon for his lofty ambition of deigning to court a goddess. But I knew his feelings were genuine, and I loved him even more for it. But through hard work and perseverance, he really proved himself, and eventually my brother relented and let us be together. I'm sure, once the way the story is written gets approved, you'll know more about our marriage."

"I can't wait, it sounds utterly lovely."

They both giggled, returning to their meal with gusto.

All of a sudden, the doors to the chamber slammed open, startling them both.

"Tch." Rukia rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she stared at the empty threshold. "It's Ichigo. It's his way of telling me that I need to let you go now."

"Oh." Orihime wiped her mouth and hurriedly rose. "Thank you for letting me help you, even though I didn't really do a good job of it."

"Nonsense. It's fun to have some company."

She smiled. "Thanks for the meal as well. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Orihime had gotten used to waking up to the touch of the Death God.

In the still-darkened time before dawn, he pulled her from a deep sleep with a kiss, his lips enticing hers to answer. Passion slowly pervaded her, mouth opening to accept the tongue that sought entrance, tangling and stroking against hers, rendering her to be aware solely of him.

Releasing a husky sigh as he relinquished her lips, her hands rose, fingers splaying against the short orange spikes, feeling the tingle against her skin as they grew longer and darkened to black, flaring out, then falling to curtain them. She marveled at this transformation, eyes roaming over the still-familiar face. This form of his seemed to be the paragon of stillness; calm and watchful, but still with that edge of danger she'd come to know.

"Spend the day with me," bade the Death God, voice quiet, deep, grave.

Orihime's brow furrowed as she wondered about his duty. Did he not have any today? But his lips and tongue pulled her from her thoughts, wringing compliance from her, and she could only nod her head in reply as he pulled away, noticing for the first time the streaks of ebony and sable swirling around him, surrounding them.

Lips met again, hungrier, insatiable. Arms around her, he rolled so that she lay atop him. She released his lips. Her thumb reached out to caress the tips of his long lashes, and she could only gaze with languid wonder at his new form. Every single one seemed to show her a different facet of himself, distinct from each other but still recognizable.

And Orihime realized, as she felt her heart simultaneously expand and contract inside her chest, that she was beginning to fall for all the different aspects of him.

* * *

The Death God led her by the hand through the maze of corridors inside his house. Though his torso and right arm were covered with bandages, the ones that surrounded the lower half of his face had been unwound, dangling around his neck and shoulders.

Orihime marveled at how different this new form of his was. There was a calmness to him, reminding her of the peace and silence of a sepulchre. There was still the latent fury in him that was inherent in his white form, though more controlled and less obvious, with the promise of complete annihilation to the unlucky fool it happened to be directed at remaining.

And with his hand engulfing hers, she couldn't help the way her pulse fluctuated at his nearness, a sinking feeling in her stomach at her earlier realization in their chamber. He turned to her as he sensed her disquiet, and she backed away with a hitching breath, unable to meet his questioning gaze.

Her retreat brought her against the wall, and she closed her eyes tightly, knowing there was now no escape from his perusal. She didn't want to acknowledge how she felt; it only added more to the conflict already warring within her.

She felt his touch upon her chin, lifting her face, his other arm coming to rest beside her head. She felt the weight of his forehead against hers.

"What is it?" he whispered, the tranquility in his voice belied by a harsh edge.

Afflicted by confusion as she was, she couldn't very well tell the source of her problem that he was the cause of it.

The touch of his lips on hers pried a sigh of surrender, if not an answer. As the kiss deepened, her hands rose on their own accord to stroke the arms that held her, her lips impassioned as they began to match his.

No matter how hard she fought her growing feelings, a mere touch from him undid her.

And she found herself ever more irrevocably lost.

* * *

"Mugetsu," called Rukia's voice from behind them, exasperation colouring her tone.

It was with an irritated sigh that he relinquished Orihime's lips, and turned to face the Goddess of Snow with a murderous scowl in place.

"This had better be important," came his clipped reply.

Spying his bride behind him, Rukia smiled as she greeted, "Good morning, Orihime," (to which the auburn-haired, red with embarrassment, could only nod in response), before turning back to him, annoyance descending back on her face. "You should really do something about all these!" She indicated to the swarm of black butterflies flapping in her wake. "I've been bombarded by them for the last two weeks because you've been ignoring them. The least you could do is listen to the other gods' messages. They all have been asking the same thing: when are you going to introduce Orihime to them?"

"I don't have to do anything of the sort," came the grave response.

"And you know that's not going to stop them. And they'll keep hounding me since you won't do anything."

"Then, it is your problem."

Rukia raised an eyebrow, feeling the challenge crackle in the air. "Is that so? Then I guess you don't mind me sharing every sordid details of your matrimonial life...? The walls of your house are very eager to share what you've been doing together, just so you know."

His own eyes narrowed, the swirls of black around him increasing and merging, beginning to spread through the walls and ceiling and creep along the floor. Orihime gasped as she felt as though she was being swallowed by the heavy darkness, eyelids fluttering and limbs hanging heavily as it begun to sap her life-force.

"Stop that! Look at what you're doing to her. Really, you should know better." Rukia shook her head, clearly unimpressed at his display of power as a way to threaten her into silence.

Even as he gathered the darkness back, Orihime's legs gave underneath her, feeling incredibly weak and drained. He quickly caught her, abashed at forgetting her human frailty and exposing her to such intensity. By the smirk that curled Rukia's lips, he clearly heard the words she didn't voice aloud: _I told you so_.

He sighed, knowing that Rukia would not stop pestering him about the matter despite his evasion. Even if she avoided his white form, he knew she would not stop badgering him after sunset day after day until she got her way. Even the vast and multitudinous halls of his house were not limitless and she could find him if she really set her mind to it.

Tiredly, a long exhale escaped him. "What do you want me to do?"

She laughed, quite pleased at how easily he caved (_Having a bride is really changing him_, she thought), clapping her hands in delight. "I think, in order to quiet them, you should hold a gathering―"

"No." The answer was swift and with a finality that she easily brushed aside.

"The alternative is your father's invitation."

He stiffened, eyes hardening. But even as he immediately hated the idea of it, the latter held a lesser cause for headache than the former. But only by a minuscule margin. The thought of having too many curious and intrusive gods within his domain would be too much to handle. At least, within his father's house, they would be the old man's problem.

An annoyed growl reverberated in his throat. "Take it," muttered he through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry―what?"

"Accept the damn invitation," he grounded out.

Rukia blinked. "Are you serious?"

He turned around, tightly gripping the body of his unconscious wife as he started walking away, keeping a firm hold on the emission of the black swirls of his power so as not to affect her further.

"You heard me."

There was no turning back now. He knew he had to face this eventually. But he had been wishing that that eventuality would take forever to get to him.

Not this soon.

* * *

APPENDIX

Mystery Man (1) - God of Destruction  
Mystery Woman - Goddess of Autumn  
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon (transforms into the black form, Mugetsu, during the new moon, and into the white form during the nights the moon is visible in the sky)

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011, revised Aug/2011; revised 2012


	6. parade

A/N: Thank you once again for your continued support! I really do appreciate the questions/speculations/comments/encouragements you've written ^_^  
The previous chapter being called "black" and this one "parade" are merely coincidental ;)

Flashback order: 2, 3, **6**, 5, 4.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Revision notes: The full unedited and uncensored version of this chapter can be found at **the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

**Chapter 6: Parade**

* * *

_"What's wrong with you?" bellowed she, pacing, autumn leaves swirling at her agitated feet._

_"I decided not to play this game after all," replied he._

_She shook her head, eyes the colour of bitter orange disbelieving as she stared at him. "You_ cannot _retract in the middle of it. The die has been cast, and if you pull back now you lose by default." Her feet halted, the leaves a whirlwind that began to rise up to her knees. "Or is that what you want?"_

_"I never wanted to play in the first place."_

_Her eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring as realization blazed through her mind. "Is it that human?"_

_He answered with silence, his chocolate brown eyes indecipherable._

_Hands tremblingly curling into fists, she fought to control the rising wind that brought her leaves twirling up to her waist, made difficult by his indifference. "Don't tell me you...for a mere human?" She snorted with disgust, feeling tremendously insulted. "I cannot believe this."_

_He repeated his response._

_She raised her head, eyes bright and hard, and declared, "It's over between us."_

_"We've never really begun," spoke he finally._

_She flinched, feeling hurt despite herself. She was supposed to have the upper hand; he was the one who was supposed to be unable to let go. And yet, how easily he said those words as though their time together had never mattered at all._

_Keeping her lips from trembling or the tears from surfacing, she proclaimed, "You're mistaken if you think this game is finished. I_ will _win, and am more determined now that you've chosen_ that _over me." She couldn't help the way her voice rose in a whine when she continued, "You were supposed to play_ with _me, not against me."_

_"You've already won," he countered impassively. "That village is set to die from the plague you had me sent. Isn't that enough? What is it to you? Why is this so important?"_

_Her head lowered, purple hair falling to cover her eyes, and her voice was quiet but harsh as she responded, "You should know better. Mortals who injure a god's pride never go unpunished."_

_And with brown, red, and yellow leaves rising to encompass her, she disappeared._

* * *

Orihime, with trepidation, walked down the centre of the great hall alone.

The mosaic floor indicated where she should tread as on either side of her, interspersed by columns, stood rows upon rows of gods. The Goddess of Snow and her husband sent her smiles of encouragement while the God of Archery gave a nod as she passed by them. The sea of faces showed various expressions: mostly curious, some interested, some solemn.

As she proceeded, she found it hard to hold her head high nor to keep bewilderment from showing on her face―for how could a mere mortal like her ever imagine being in the presence of such eminence?

Ahead of her stood the God of Death on the right hand-side of his father in what Rukia jokingly called his bull form―a form that Orihime had seen once and that he only retained for special occasions, such as meetings of state and ceremonial gatherings with other gods, or even his nuptial rite. He wore the black coat tattered at the edges and trimmed in white; red fur sprouted at his collar and wrists in stark contrast against his bone-white skin. His long orange hair flowed behind him like a veil and his face was unreadable beneath the horned white mask with its parallel black stripes.

Heart beating painfully within her chest, she reached the bottom of the steps that mounted the throne of the one that fathered the God of Death. She genuflected, eyes lowered, unseeing of the grand and colourful arrangement of the tiles. She felt outside of herself as she was directed to stand by hands holding both her shoulders, and couldn't fully meet the eyes dancing with mirth as they perused her.

"Welcome," greeted he in a loud, booming voice, pride evident in his tone. "Welcome, my new daughter-in-law."

He leaned over to whisper, "I was beginning to think my son is a eunuch, or even, you know..." he wiggled his dark eyebrows, lightly jabbing her with an elbow in an effort to ease her obvious nervousness. And then he took her hand and turned her so that they both faced the gathering.

"The bride of the Death God!" announced the God of Life, raising her hand in the air, and applause thundered through the great hall, echoing through its high, vaulted ceiling as flowers showered them.

"The bride of the Death God!" chorused the gods.

Soon after, with the God of Death beside her, she was presented and introduced to each god in attendance. There were some that she recognized from her brother's book, and more that were unfamiliar.

There was the God of Night, who also presided over Spring and was Rukia's brother, Byakuya. The very well-endowed, blue-eyed Goddess of Love and Fertility, Rangiku. The prim and stern Goddess of Order, Nanao. The easy-going God of Summer, Shunsui. The very amiable, though somewhat sickly, God of Children, Juushiro. The motherly yet fearsome Goddess of Healing, Unohana. The very serious and young-looking God of Winter, Toshiro. The elderly, yet far from senile, God of Fire, Yamamoto. The two that always seemed to be together: the Goddess of Cats, Yoruichi, and the God of Knowledge and Invention, Kisuke. And many more that, to Orihime's regret, became a blur of names and faces as they went farther down the pantheonic line.

Each offered their congratulations and well-wishes, some going so far as to grant matrimonial advice and anecdotes that, were it not for the heavy glower directed at them by the Death God in his masked form intimidating them to hurry through their felicitations, would have continued on until the day had become the next day.

The festivities continued with a staged presentation of one version of the well-known tale of the full moon giving way to the new moon. The performers reenacted the story of the God of Night raising his cherry blossoms up to the sky to take their places as the stars and how proud he was of the magnificent light they bestowed upon the world. But then, clouds appeared, covering the stars so that they were not seen, and the God of the Moon, seeing the now-darkened world, carved out his heart and placed it in the sky so that light might once again shine upon the night. Upon seeing how people rejoiced over this replacement, the God of Night was offended, and demanded that for one night, the God of the Moon must not share his light alongside his stars. And thus, the nights of the full moon and the new moon came to be.

As they sat, Orihime gripped the God of Death's hand tightly as she watched the play with rapt wonder. The voice of her brother sounded in her mind as the live depiction made her recall this very story he'd once told to her. _"It's alright, Orihime. The Death God is...kind. He gives too much of himself. He doesn't play the games that other gods play because he knows how much we suffer for it. At the end of our lives, he comes for us to grant us our final peace. So there really is no reason to fear him, only to revere him."_

A tear streamed down her cheek at the memory. The Death God turned to her with a question in his eyes, and she gestured to the stage before them to indicate that she was just thoroughly moved by the show as she quickly wiped at her cheek. He squeezed her hand in comfort before turning back to watch.

She gazed at the Death God out of the corner of her eye, her heart aching yet feeling full. And she wondered what her brother would say if he would've had a chance to meet the god that was now her husband.

* * *

The goddesses held a separate banquet to honour the bride of the God of Death.

They convened in a hall smaller than the God of Life's throne room, but no less grand. The colourful mosaic floor matched the tall walls, and the room was decorated with fresh flowers and diaphanous curtains. Food and drink appeared as the house provided to the needs of its guests without the use of attendants to serve them. Laughter and several different conversations filled the room as some of the goddesses greeted one another after having not seen each other for a long while.

Orihime sat in one of the myriad cushions scattered about the spacious room, shyly accepting bridal gift after bridal gift, feeling undeserving of the honour being bestowed on her yet grateful all the same.

Rangiku, the Goddess of Love and Fertility, had taken it upon herself to take the young bride under her wing to teach her the ways in which she could better please her husband. Blue eyes sparkled as she laughed gaily at the scarlet hue that pervaded her reluctant charge. The dark-haired, bespectacled Goddess of Order was quite outraged at Rangiku's display of decadence, showing disapproval by the harsh way in which she kept pushing her glasses closer to her eyes.

"Come now, Orihime," invited Rangiku, "you needn't be shy. All these weeks you've been married have surely been quite the adventure for you. Why, I heard from Rukia that―"

A surprised squeak came from Orihime―effectively interrupting the goddess―as she directed a mortified look toward Rukia. The latter, meanwhile, averted her gaze and took a huge gulp of her drink.

But the interruption was short-lived for Rangiku ploughed on, putting her arms around Orihime to prevent her from escaping. "―Your first time had been a very, very pleasurable one, and that he took care to make it so."

Orihime covered her face with her hands.

"Oh, you're an absolute delight!" exclaimed Rangiku as she tried to pry the hands from her face. "So tell me, what positions have you tried? Has he dug into your garden and suckled your flower? Have you kissed him all over?

"Hmm, from the way you've been changing colour, I would surmise that you _have_ tried quite the number of positions, and that the answers are yes to the garden, yes to the flower, but no to the last one..." She frowned, tapping her chin with a finger in deep thought. "Shall I teach you how it's done? I see that you have quite the lovely ladies here―" At this, she cupped Orihime's chest, earning a frightened squeal from the younger woman. "You can also use them, you know, to―"

"Rangiku!" cried Nanao, fanning herself with the feathered quill and unrolled scroll that she always kept with her, as flustered as the bride but more incensed. "I think that's enough teasing. Can't you see that the lady is already scandalized by the subject matter? I suggest you refrain from pursuing this further. And I am most definitely talking about Orihime. And no one else. Definitely not myself."

Rangiku gasped, affronted. "I am merely fulfilling my duty as the Goddess of Fertility in making sure that the seeds sown will bear fruit. And from what I've heard from Rukia, the God of Death had been planting every night and every morning."

At the mention of her name, the Goddess of Snow sprayed out her drink. "Rangiku, I would appreciate it if you would keep from mentioning me or my involvement in any matter pertaining to the Death God and his wife." As she wiped her mouth with her sleeve she directed to Orihime, sotto voce, "I'm really sorry, Orihime."

"Oh phooey," pouted Rangiku. "I cannot believe you are all against me. I just feel that these things are useful to know and practice."

She leaned over to Orihime, whispering, "Later, away from the others, I will teach you." And then she moved to lounge in a cushion further down to mingle with the other goddesses in the room, leaving Orihime to figure out how she could back out of the appointment with the Goddess of Love and Fertility.

* * *

"Absolutely not!" exclaimed the God of Death.

"Why not?" countered the God of Life. "You'll still be able to fulfill your duties while in my house. I merely want time to get to know my daughter-in-law, so during the day while you're away, I and the other gods and goddesses can keep her company."

"For a whole month?"

"Yes."

"We haven't even been married that long."

"If you're worried about it, you can still do your matrimonial activities...just within my house." Isshin punctuated this with a smile. "You know that life cannot be created inside the palace of death. So what better place for a small life, a nice bundle of joy, to start anew than the house of the God of Life?"

"Old man, you'll soon become the God of Unlife if you keep pursuing this."

Isshin's smile melted, and with a sober expression, said, "I have done as you requested and not invited the Goddess of Autumn and the God of Destruction to our celebration. Is it not possible for you to acquiesce to mine?"

"I accepted your invitation to come here, didn't I?"

Isshin sighed. "I am merely asking for you to extend your visit a little longer. At least, more than these three days you're willing to allow. As you know, no one may enter a domain in which no invitation is granted. Since I have not invited the two, they cannot enter this place, and your human bride is quite safe from them here."

Ichigo glared, displeased at the reasonable argument presented to him by his father. His fist clenched, lips pulled in a thin line. "I will think about it."

Isshin nodded. "I would appreciate that. Now come, there's a hall prepared for a banquet in your honour."

* * *

Ichigo raised his cup, accepting the toast made for him by the already inebriated God of Summer. There was a chorus of cheers that followed before everyone drank their fill, and a myriad of scattered conversations spread through the hall soon after.

He leaned back on an elbow among the cushions, his mask resting atop his head, his cup perched on a raised knee while he traced the rim with a claw as he listened to the God of Archery regaling Sado, the God of Silence, about his latest smiting.

"As you know," stated Uryu as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, "we gods are limited by what we preside over. Punishment through an archery contest in which I exhibit that I truly am the God of Archery is enough, leaving the mortal to reflect on his sin of deigning to insult me or the Quincy. For myself, I need not resort to death as other gods are wont to do when their pride had been injured. There are worse things than the end of mortals' lives: and that is for them to always have a remembrance of their foolishness."

"Mm," contributed Sado.

"Indeed," agreed Uryu. "Take the God of Winter for example. Mortals who even go so far as to mention anything about his lack of height would find themselves frozen. It could be enough to bring them to the brink of death, but it doesn't necessarily mean that they would die from it. Death is, after all, Ichigo's domain, so unless you got him to agree to cooperate with you, you cannot kill a mortal when you punish them."

"Mm," admonished the God of Silence.

"Ah, you're right. I've gotten away from myself." He turned to Ichigo. "Your pardon, I didn't mean for the subject to come to this especially during the celebration of your marriage."

"Not at all," waved Ichigo. "You're merely speaking of the truth." He clinked his cup against Uryu's and Sado's before taking a long sip, feeling a touch on his shoulder as the God of Summer and the God of Children sat beside him.

"Please accept our congratulations, Ichigo," greeted Juushiro.

"I heard you've been immensely enjoying your wife these past few weeks," began Shunsui, face a hearty shade of red and a big smile upon his lips. "It's best done now and have your fill before she finds herself with child."

Ichigo fought the urge the pull his mask over his face, thankful that his thick white skin didn't allow any changes in body temperature―such as one caused by embarrassment―to colour it. _That Rukia and her big mouth_, he thought.

"It's such a shame that life cannot spring forth in your house, you can only bring them in from outside," said the God of Children. "You have my best wishes that someday you'll be blessed with children, especially now that you are in the God of Life's domain."

Ichigo could only nod, tightening and loosening his hold on his cup.

"I think it's better for them to enjoy each other first before thinking of an addition so soon," countered the God of Summer, voice slurring as he tipsily swayed from side to side upon his cushion. "Although from what I've heard from the Goddess of Snow, their exercises have been quite abundant."

Ichigo cleared his throat, rising and resisting an uncontrollable compulsion to use Cero on the intoxicated god. "If you'll excuse me, I will now retire."

"Ah!" exclaimed Shunsui, his wine spilling as he raised his cup to point at the bridegroom. "Off to seek your wife already, huh? We won't keep you. Go ahead." He snickered.

Juushiro raised his goblet. "Good night, and congratulations once again."

Ichigo nodded and left the hall, pace brisk as he headed off in the direction of the quarters granted to him by his father, willing himself to calm down.

He closed his eyes and sighed with relief as he reached his chambers. This was the very reason why he hadn't wanted the other gods in his house: they induced a frustration in him, and he hardly ever knew what other kind of response they would elicit from him. When they flocked together in such a number, it was hard to predict their actions or their words, and a small part of him was glad that this was not happening in his own domain. Besides, the house of the God of Death was hardly an altogether welcoming place to hold a celebration.

After shedding his mask and coat and dropping them on a nearby chair, he flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes, feeling resignation settle over him. With the banquets set to continue on well until the morning, he knew that he wouldn't be seeing his bride at all tonight.

* * *

APPENDIX

Mystery Woman - Goddess of Autumn  
Mystery Man (1) - God of Destruction  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Renji - formerly a Scribe (servant to gods), now a god by association for marrying a goddess  
Uryu - God of Archery  
Isshin - God of Life  
Byakuya - God of the Night and Spring  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Nanao - Goddess of Order  
Shunsui - God of Summer  
Juushiro - God of Children  
Unohana - Goddess of Healing  
Toshiro - God of Winter  
Yamamoto - God of Fire  
Yoruichi - Goddess of Cats  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Sado - God of Silence

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011; revised 2012


	7. swept

A/N: Sorry :( This chapter was a pain and thoroughly resistant to getting itself written. Usually I'd be 2-3 chapters ahead―hence the previously quick updates―but then when I got to this...the whole train of progress just went *poof* I think I went through 5-6 restarts until the ball finally got rolling again, and even so this chapter went in a different direction than I'd originally intended. Yeesh. Funny how it worked out. Well, hope you enjoy this chapter even though I had a heck of a time with it ^^  
I don't think I really can express how much your comments really encouraged me to plough on, but thank you very much for them :)

Flashback order: 2, 3, **7**, 6, 5, 4.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Revision notes: The full unedited and uncensored version can be found at **the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

**Chapter 7: Swept**

* * *

_"The Goddess of Autumn is just using you, you know."_

_"I know."_

_"And you're just letting this happen? Willingly?"_

_"Other gods rarely approach me unless they want to bring death to the one they wish to punish."_

_"And you're only too happy to be so accommodating?"_

_"You talk as if you're above this, like you yourself have never played the game."_

_"We've never come to you to bring death to an entire village over some petty reason."_

_"It is for petty reasons that the pride of gods are so easily injured. How is the Goddess of Autumn any different?"_

_"What else are you getting out of this other than her body? Is she worth it? Why are you so suddenly willing to take part in the game?"_

_"Boredom, maybe. Change. She showed me a girl."_

_"A girl?"_

_"She hates her, but..."_

_"But what?"_

_"I felt...every time I go to that village to usher another soul, I find myself seeking out the girl, watching her."_

_"...What are you trying to say?"_

_"I want to protect her. I want her to be mine."_

* * *

Orihime stifled a yawn. She felt her body telling her that normally this would be the time when she would be receiving the Death God―and she could feel herself blushing at the thought that her body had been conditioned so―and then they both would fall asleep afterward. But the sky outside the banquet windows indicated that it was only early evening... She frowned. She could've sworn it had been early evening for several hours now.

She was startled by the goddesses' cackle of laughter. Beside her, Rukia rolled upon her cushion, clutching at her sides over Rangiku's regaling of her tryst with one of her temple followers, a man who apparently specialized in a position indicated by the tattoo on his cheek. As the night wore on and more wine were consumed, the celebrants have spectacularly let themselves loose. The Goddess of Love and Fertility herself had unfastened the front of her gown, and now whenever she moved, soft and beguiling flesh peeked through the fabrics.

Rukia's laughter slowly abated, a hand over her chest as she waited to calm her heart down, every now and again releasing a chuckle. She reached for a goblet and took a sip, a look of delight passing over her features.

"I remember this taste," remarked she, quaffing the drink. "I had this a few weeks ago, and apparently it made me really talkative."

Rangiku chortled. "You're a blabbermouth even when you're not drunk."

"I resent that!" gasped Rukia, sounding enraged.

There were a few seconds of silence wherein both goddesses just stared at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter and chorusing, "But it's so true!"

The well-endowed goddess collapsed on the cushion amid giggles, clutching to her an earthen jug. She crawled over to where Orihime sat, uncorked the jug and poured some of the liquid on the young woman's cup.

"Oh no," cried Orihime, "I think I've had too much wine already."

"Nonsense," Rangiku brushed off. "The night is still young, and will be staying young for a long time. Time moves differently in a god's realm; it exists beyond the temporal boundary of the real world. Besides, I know for a fact that the God of Life talked the God of Night into it."

"Ah," nodded Orihime, understanding dawning in her eyes. "That's why it felt like the night is lasting longer than usual, because normally around this time, I―" she immediately clamped her mouth shut, a blush suffusing her cheeks as she watched Rangiku's eyebrow raise higher and higher.

"Oh? Normally you would be doing what?" asked the blue-eyed goddess in a singsong voice. "Or should I say, who?"

Orihime held the cup over her face to hide herself, closing her eyes tightly as she felt the heat of embarrassment amplify.

"Oh, come now, there's no need to be shy." The goddess sidled closer. "So, which of the Death God's forms have you made love to?"

The young woman squeaked. She thought she'd reached the limit of how much her face could redden, but she was wrong as the goddess persisted.

"The white one? The black? Which is your favourite? The one that only appears at sunset in his house? That one is never ever seen by the real world, you know. The one called Ichigo. You're the first human to ever encounter that form since all the real world ever meet are either the black or the white."

Orihime raised her head, curiosity overtaking her embarrassment. "Really?" asked she, wonderment in her voice. "Why is that?"

"Like I said, time in the gods' realm exists outside of time in the real world. The day here could take a whole day and night there, whereas the nights here could last forever if the gods so wish. It is only when the sun sets in the gods' world does Ichigo manifest. It is only when the sun rises here does he transform into his other forms. Our sun is not the sun of the real world."

Orihime raised the cup to her lips, trying to process what she'd just been told. So Ichigo, the form with the spiky orange hair, only existed after sunset in the land of the gods. That would explain why her brother's book only showed his white and black moon forms.

A delighted giggle escaped Rangiku. "Drink some more," she urged, watching the young woman closely. "Good. Go on. It's a special mead made by the worshipers of my temple. All of it...yes...that's good."

Rukia gazed at them over the rim of her goblet, eyes dancing with interest.

The potent mead dribbled from the corners of Orihime's mouth as she downed the liquid, and she swiped the back of her hand over her lips, frowning at the taste.

"It loosens inhibitions and awakens passion," informed Rangiku, eyeing her attentively. "Depending on the individual, sometimes the effect is immediate, and sometimes it is gradual."

"What else does it do?" asked Rukia, head tilted to the side.

"It makes whoever drink really susceptible to my commands and teachings." Rangiku winked at her. "I just _know_ the God of Death will thank me later."

As the goddesses spoke, Orihime felt heavy and light at the same time. She swayed, feeling her strength sap, and she fell forward, straight into Rangiku's bosom. Her mind grew clouded, and she felt the goddess lean down to blow gently in her ear, whispering instructions on what she ought to do as soon as she woke up as darkness rose and consumed her.

* * *

The unknown hour between night and morning saw Orihime waking up in the goddesses' banquet hall amid the scattered sleeping bodies of the celebrants, spooned against the Fertility Goddess's naked back, her hands cupped against a pair of soft mounds and one of her bare legs clasped between the goddess's.

She felt heady and hot, her garment twisted around her body, her mind seemingly heavy and full of haze, with an uncomfortable throbbing between her thighs. A moan of confusion escaped her as she carefully disentangled herself. Disoriented, she sat up and scanned the unfamiliar room, gaze landing upon the still awake Wasp Goddess and the Goddess of Cats, her mind not quite registering that she was witnessing a tryst. Even through her half-aware state, she shyly bowed her head toward them―who both seemed rather lost with each other―before rising and smoothing out her dress, tipsily grabbing a pair of slippers by the doorway and donning them, and then, in fits and starts, finally made her way to the quarters the God of Life had reserved for her and the Death God.

Hesitatingly opening the door, she peeked inside, running her eyes over the spacious and opulent room. She spied her husband sprawled upon the bed, topless and soundly asleep on his stomach.

Somehow, he'd reverted to his sunset form.

She entered, closing the door softly behind her so as not to irritate her pounding head and made her way to the bed. She bit her lip as she kicked off the slippers and climbed up to settle beside him, her movements tentative so as not to disturb him. She laid her head by his shoulder, thinking that she would promptly fall back to sleep, and was surprised and frustrated that she couldn't.

Orihime twisted and turned in an effort to find a comfortable position, beginning to get desperate, sitting up to pull her garment off and throwing it to the floor as she found her temperature too hot and unyielding. Somehow, being right beside the Death God amplified her feeling of feverishness. She felt ravenous; her body yearned to be filled.

She laid back down, gazing at the Death God, the fire from the hearth caressing shadows upon his skin. Dreamily, she leaned over and took a deep sniff of the musky scent at his nape, the soft short hairs at the back of his head tickling her cheek, her fingertips lightly tracing down his spine. He arched in reaction, though sleep continued to hold him.

On all fours, she rose over him, her knees on either side of his legs as her fingers kissed the air over his skin, followed the contours and planes of his back, not quite touching him. A small giggle escaped her as she leaned down to kiss the small of his back, her large breasts pressed against his rear.

She suddenly found herself nearly hanging off the edge of the bed, her hair brushing against the floor, laughing as blood rushed through her head. She was only saved from falling right off by a hand's tight grip on her ankle, as another hand grabbed a hold of her arm to pull her upright.

"You startled me," said the Death God, a puzzled look on his face as he cupped her cheeks. "I didn't mean to kick you."

Orihime panted as her laughter subsided, gazing at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She licked her lips before reaching up to kiss him and plunged her tongue in his mouth.

He drew away and rested his forehead against hers. "You've been drugged."

"I'm drunk on you," corrected she huskily, reaching up once again to recapture his lips.

Chuckling, he allowed himself to be drawn in by her desire, however artificially induced it might have been. He could feel her body calling to him, the longing so tangible that his hands seemed magnetized to explore every inch of her skin. Her own hands, meanwhile, delved on their own path of discovery as she never had before, her fingers leaving a tingling sensation on his skin where they touched him, untying the knot that still held his hakama in place.

* * *

Afterwards, the God of Death raised his head and stared at her, stroked his nose against hers before catching her lips with his own, communicating with his touch what he couldn't yet bring himself to say.

Orihime, through the haze that still filled her mind, felt a hitch inside her as she gazed at the Death God's expression. She couldn't maintain looking at him and accept what he was trying to convey, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his head down to rest on her chest before she closed her eyes and willed herself to succumb to sleep.

It was only later, when he was held in deep slumber, did she allow tears to fall.

* * *

APPENDIX

Mystery Woman - Goddess of Autumn  
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Soi Fong - Goddess of Wasps  
Yoruichi - Goddess of Cats  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon (transforms into the black form, Mugetsu, during the new moon, and into the white form during the nights the moon is visible in the sky)

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011; revised 2012


	8. within

A/N: I'm back in the game...I think. Hopefully I didn't just jinxed it ^^; Thank you once again for all your fanta-bulous thoughts/comments/speculations :)

To those who have been wondering who the other speaker is in last chapter's flashback, you'll find out in this one. Also, Kubo-drawn oranges to those who've guessed right about a certain character's identity (blink and you'll miss it :P ). Rangiku and Isshin are doing the can-can as kudos to you :D

Flashback order: 2, 3, **8**, 7, 6, 5, 4.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 8: Within**

* * *

_Back and forth through the grandeur of the quarters granted to her, she paced._

_She felt suffocated._

_The house of the God of Death seemed to her to be a giant mausoleum, the empty halls devoid of anything living in contrast to the burst of life and colour beyond its walls._

_She stared out the balcony doors and felt a pang of jealousy at the camaraderie between the house's other tenants. She knew they would have welcomed her if she hadn't incited the Death God in her vendetta against the village of Karakura. They were, in their own way, protective of their friend, and she found it an admirable trait._

_All gods knew the rule of the game: never meddle in another god's punishment of a mortal unless that god asked for it. Calling on the God of Death was always the last resort, and that last resort entailed the end of the object of the punishment's life._

_But that village and that girl had done something that she just could not forgive, and her power and capacity as the Goddess of Autumn limited her as it would only allow her to withhold and spoil their fall harvest. And even then, it wouldn't be a guarantee of their deaths, only hardship and starvation._

_The Death God wasn't the only option, however. She had the God of Destruction to approach as the penultimate alternative should the former have declined her. But now, she was beginning to wonder if going to the God of Destruction first would have been the wiser and better choice._

_Of their own volition, she found her feet leading her out and down the balcony steps, towards the gazebo by the lake where the God of Archery as well as the Goddess of Snow and her husband dined under the crepuscular sky. The high sculptured hedges at the edge of the labyrinth garden hid her as she approached them, her steps slowing as she heard their voices._

_"I'll talk to him about it," said the lone female._

_"I don't really think that would make any difference," answered the bespectacled god dubiously._

_"It's a man thing," added the newly-made god. "We know when we're being used, especially if it's by women."_

_"Nonetheless," decreed Rukia, "I think it bears pointing out to him. It may be a 'man' thing, but I know how stupid you guys can be when it comes to women. So I'll tell him how she's only using him, and maybe he'll finally wake up or somethi―ow!" She rubbed the leg that the God of Archery had kicked under the table, frowning at the head tilts and eye rolls he was sending her, turning her head only to spy one of the objects of their conversation._

_"Good evening," greeted the Goddess of Autumn civilly, not letting on that she had heard them._

_They chorused the greeting back to her in varying states of enthusiasm and interest, mostly the lack of._

_"Mind if I join you?"_

_There was a pregnant pause, and it gave birth to a silence more loaded with tension as they looked at each other, before the red-haired god by an unspoken vote acquiesced, "Go ahead." And with a wave of a hand, a chair and an extra set of dinnerware appeared._

_She gave him a smile as she sat, and served herself. The uncomfortable silence suffused through the air as everyone ate their meal, none of them seeming to want to get a conversation going._

_After minutes that seemed like hours flew, she cleared her throat. "Ichigo seems to be coming home much later in the last little while."_

_The three before her all stopped midway through what they were doing and stared at her. The Goddess of Snow set down her fork rather carefully, leaned back in her seat and shrugged._

_"It shouldn't be that surprising," replied she. "His workload has suddenly increased. Sending out a plague does that."_

_The Goddess of Autumn's cup halted near her mouth, and she looked over the rim and into the indigo eyes of the Snow Goddess across from her, not at all missing the jab directed at her. Frost started seeping in through the table and its accoutrements as autumn leaves began to fly through the air._

_"Should you be so territorial of the Death God, Rukia? With your husband sitting right beside you?"_

_"Is that the best you can come up with, Senna? It seems to me that you don't really have much to offer. At all."_

_The table split from beneath, throwing the men and dishes to the side as both goddesses sprang up, each of their katana at the ready._

_"Whoa! Um, ladies, we should all calm down―" began Renji._

_"This isn't really the place for this―" said Uryu at the same time._

_"Stay out of this!" Both the goddesses barked in unison._

_A weight descended upon their blades as the God of Death enclosed his clawed hands upon each, fearsome and formidable in his white form, expression unreadable beneath the mask._

_"Not in my domain," uttered he in a quiet voice edged with danger, looking at each of them from the corner of his eyes as he lifted his hold from their weapons._

_The goddesses slowly retracted, dematerializing their blades, their eyes not leaving the other's._

_"I need to speak to you," directed Rukia to the Death God, even as her stare bore into the Goddess of Autumn's gaze. "It's about an important matter."_

_The Death God eyed her, and then at the other. "Inside." He turned, white hair waving in the air as he began to transform._

_"I'm sure what you have to tell me will be very enlightening."_

* * *

The day, when it finally arrived, saw the God of Life and the Fertility Goddess solemnly and not quite soberly having breakfast together. The rest of the gods were in varying states of somnolence upon the table amid goblets and jugs of wine, as well as the feast of the morning meal laid out on its surface.

Their dining was disturbed by the presence of the God of Death, in his regalia reserved for special occasions, long orange hair flowing behind him with his white mask perched on top of his head.

"Two weeks, and that's all," said Ichigo.

The two not-fully-awake occupants turned to him in confusion. His father, who seemed to have retained his propensity for sober thought, gave the intelligent reply, "Huh?"

"We're extending our visit for a fortnight only," elaborated the Death God. "No more and no le―" He stopped and thought for a moment. "It _will_ be less if you piss me off."

The two gods looked at him and then at each other, repeating the action thrice more before rising in unison, screaming, jumping, and hugging each other.

"It worked! It worked!" exclaimed Rangiku, face flushing with joy.

"It worked! It worked!" repeated Isshin. "...Wait―what worked?"

"The mead! I gave Orihime something to drink and she must have performed really well and now we get to keep her!"

"Haha!" hollered Isshin as he twirled Rangiku in the air.

"So it's you!" bellowed the Death God, pulling his mask over his face, and the sight of him stopped the two mid-joy. "You're the one who drugged her."

The Fertility Goddess cowered behind his father and peeked over his shoulder. "You enjoyed it, didn't you? I made sure to instruct her how to do them magnificently, and from the way the walls had been ringing out your pleasure―"

"Shut up!"

"―Oh, you can't deny it! Is that why you're hiding beneath the mask? Because you're too embarrassed? I, as the Goddess of Love, am very proud that the mead is very effective in making her an expert―"

"Shut Up!"

"―No need to be coy! It's a natural reaction, especially given your wife's assets―"

"SHUT UP, AND STOP TEACHING HER STUFF LIKE THAT! ACTUALLY, DON'T EVER COME NEAR HER. AT ALL. EVER."

The goddess laughed. "You're so cute, acting like you didn't like it."

"Wait, wait," called out Isshin, holding his hands out. "You mean...don't tell me...this means that...in due time...I will have my first grandchild? Haha!" He grabbed Rangiku once more and danced a jig with her, both of them prancing around in their excitement, having entirely forgotten about the God of Death.

Ichigo growled, but no matter how much he glowered the elder gods continued to ignore him. Shaking his head, knowing how futile an attempt to further a serious confrontation with them would be, he left to fulfil the day's duties, transforming into his white form as he went. _It's only a fortnight_, he thought as he stomped off, taking comfort in the fact that it wouldn't be the whole month his father originally asked of him.

Arms hooked together as they kicked their legs in the air, Isshin said, "We must summon the Scribes. This is a momentous event and they should be here to chronicle it."

"Definitely," answered Rangiku. "We should hold another banquet. I can't remember how long fertilization usually takes place in humans, but the seed shouldn't take too long to take root."

Isshin stopped, a frown wiping the joy from his features, cupping his chin as he thoughtfully said, "Her being a human is a bit problematic…"

"What do you mean?" asked the Goddess of Fertility as she crossed her arms, displeased at the sudden shift in mood.

He turned to face her. "We really should call on the Scribes. I'm pretty sure no human had ever been successful in bearing a god's offspring. But I know they'll be able to tell us with certainty."

"Oh, that is so," remembered Rangiku, sobering at the thought. And then, eyes widening as she grabbed Isshin's shoulders, she said, "Why don't we grant her godhood? That should work, right? If we made her a god, she would be able to succeed? And besides, her marriage to a god automatically entitles her to it."

"Hmm, you've got me there," replied Isshin, disappointment clouding his face as he muttered, "Damn, I wish I'd thought of that first." He shrugged, and then smiling once more, he took a hold of Rangiku's waist and led her to waltz around the dining room. "It's time to make preparations. I'm sure my son wouldn't mind our meddling."

The hall rang with their joyful laughter.

* * *

Orihime stirred, eyes blearily opening, the last words the Death God spoke to her before he left for the day tickling the edge of her mind. A deep exhale deflated her chest as she remembered that he'd asked whether she wouldn't mind extending their visit for a couple of weeks. Her heart swelled at his thoughtfulness of even asking her, even though she could tell he would rather cut the visit short.

She turned to her side and burrowed deeper beneath the covers, the pillow her head laid in awashed with the Death God's scent. It was the first such morning that she awoke alone since she came to him as a sacrifice. Stroking the indentation made by his head, she closed her eyes tightly at the memory of last night.

She didn't know how she should feel about him. She had been relieved that he had remained silent, that what ever it was he felt had been left unspoken. Because with a look, at a touch, she felt herself ever more falling deeper and falling faster. Always yearning when he was away, always wanting when he was near. She didn't think she'd ever grow accustomed to the way her heart palpitated at the thought of him. And she didn't yet want to succumb to these feelings, for what else would be left of her? For now, even though she was only willing to relinquish her body and not her full heart, that ought to be enough...right?

She released a stilted, shuddering exhale. She must bury her feelings deep; she mustn't show an ounce or an inkling of it. Despite her lack of emotional control, she had to be strong. He must never know how much she loved him.

Because the outcome of her loving someone was to lose them.

* * *

Orihime finally left the chamber past the lunch hour. As she wandered down the vast corridors in search of the other occupants and guests, arrows formed out of the mosaic tiles on the walls and the floor, directing her to the dining room where some of the sober-by-this-hour gods mingled.

Rukia saw her first and made her way to greet her. "You're finally up. Come." The Goddess of Snow took her by the arm and led her to the large table. "Help yourself," she invited as she bit into an apple, looking around as Orihime took a plate and began to fill it.

"Is that all you're having?" asked the young woman as she took a bite from a piece of bread.

"Oh, I already ate earlier. But thanks for asking." Rukia sidled close to her and informed her in a hushed voice, "There's been talk of granting you godhood."

Orihime sprayed crumbs of half-chewed bread out of surprise, patting her chest as she choked and tapped around for a drink. Her hand encountered a goblet and she pulled it up to her lips, downing the liquid in one gulp.

"What? Why?" asked she when she could finally manage, her heart pulsating in what seemed to be a million beats per minute.

"For the simple reason that you married a god. It comes with the territory, as it were. It was the same with Renji."

"A god…" mumbled Orihime, still quite disbelieving of what she had heard. That sounded too preposterous. Her, to be made a goddess? It was one thing for her to be the bride of the Death God, but…for her to…? She just couldn't fathom it. "Would I be a god of anything?"

"No," answered Rukia. "You don't have to preside over anything. It's really just an honourary title. You'll be a goddess by association."

"I-I-I think I need to sit." The floor rippled and a chair materialized right behind Orihime just when her legs gave underneath her. Surprised, she looked down, and was grateful that it was there. She slid her hands back and forth along the armrests, starting to pant with panic. "I-I don't think I'm ready for this."

"It's okay," comforted Rukia, rubbing her back. "Just breathe. In. Out. That's good. In. Out. It's alright to be nervous. And I know there's also talk of you being expectant soon."

"Expectant?"

"With child."

Orihime stared at her, blinking numbly as her breathing seemed to stop. Of course it had passed through her mind that she would soon find herself pregnant; it only stood to reason having a seemingly insatiable husband. Yet thinking about it was different from having to face the actuality of it. And she had to wonder if the gods really were omniscient as they seemed to be in the know of any happenings regarding her. Not for the first time, she was hit with the reality that she was merely a pawn in these gods' game; a lone figure in an empty chessboard that everyone strove to control.

And if she were to be made a god, would she then regain control of her own life? Twice now she had been held under an uncontrollable compulsion to obey the goddesses' commands and requests: the first time with the Goddess of Snow asking her to pour more wine into her cup and the other just last night when the Goddess of Love and Fertility commanded her to drink the mead. She had felt helpless in the absolute need to obey. Maybe accepting their offer of godhood wouldn't be such a terrible idea if it would stop her from feeling like she'd suddenly lost her will when a god ordered her to do something.

Most important of all: was the Death God aware of this matter of granting her godhood? Why hadn't he said anything about it?

She felt really faint. Everything seemed to be piling on her, and she didn't know if she could take any more surprises. She was starting to wonder if agreeing to stay here among the other gods for another couple of weeks was a good idea. A pang of longing for the Death God began to consume her.

"Are you alright, Orihime? You've spaced out..."

She blinked. She opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. She cleared her throat. "Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you. I'm going to go lie down, I think. Yes, that would be good."

"But you've barely eaten."

"Oh no, it's alright, it's fine, it's okay, really." She rubbed the back of head, chuckling, as she rose from the chair. She left, the Snow Goddess watching her with a puzzled expression.

Orihime really had no idea what was in store for her when she agreed to the sacrifice. It boggled her mind just thinking about how her life had drastically changed. Being the bride of the God of Death wasn't at all what she was expecting, and it wasn't even as though she was expecting anything at all. And all these things happening to her...they seemed too good to be true. As a mere pawn, she wondered what kind of end was in store for her.

* * *

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Isshin - God of Life  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Scribes - servants to the gods among whose duties include the recording of the gods' lives to distribute as stories to humans  
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Mystery Woman - Goddess of Autumn

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011


	9. adrift

A/N: You guys always floor me with your generosity in your comments :) Wow, another milestone with over 200 reviews? *spins a leek around à la Orihime* I heartily give my thanks and hope you'll continue to enjoy this story :)

Flashback order: 2, **9**, 3, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 9: Adrift**

* * *

_Seventeen months ago, a travelling market came to Karakura._

_Hand in hand with Tatsuki, with Chizuru's hands on both her shoulders, and Keigo, Mahana, Mizuiro, Michiru, and Ryo trailing behind, they walked through the field just outside the village dotted with stalls and stands, inspecting the various wares and foods that have caught their eyes._

_Here was a clothing stand, offering lovely colours and flattering patterns that the girls all fawned over. They tried on scarves and hair pieces, held up dresses and skirts in front of their figures, chattering and giggling while Keigo looked on with interest and gave compliments to each in the hopes that they would change their clothes in front of him and Mizuiro flirted with the older married woman who minded the stall._

_There, under an awning, was a table with all manner of assorted sweets that the girls were excited over, holding a sample up to each other to try as they made decisions on which to purchase, with Keigo opening his mouth in the hopes that they would feed him as well―and maybe, just maybe he would be lucky to score a kiss in the process. He wasn't at all successful, whereas Mizuiro managed to charm the older female stall attendant._

_As they wandered the meandering little stores, they came upon a seemingly ageless woman outside of a tent, and she invited all of them inside._

_"Fancy your fortunes told?" she asked. "For one coin each, I'll tell you who you'll marry, whether prosperity awaits you. Won't you come inside?"_

_Michiru and Mahana jumped at the chance, giggling as they burst through the tent flaps. Ryo stared at the fortune teller dubiously even as she followed the other girls._

_"I don't need to go," claimed Chizuru. "I already know that Orihime and I will live happily ever after."_

_"Tatsuki?" asked the auburn-haired girl as she squeezed her friend's hand. "It'll be fun."_

_The black-haired girl blew out air between her lips, fluttering her spiky bangs. "Fine," she acquiesced as she was led by her friend inside._

_"I'm going too," said Keigo, trailing after the girls._

_"I don't really need it, but thanks," said Mizuiro as he turned to the next stall to chat up with its seller (older and female, of course)._

_Inside, the tent was redolent with the musky scent of incense. Diaphanous scarves and curtains with gold trimmings and tinkling bells adorned the walls. Around the small table at the centre sat the friends in makeshift stools. The fortune teller came in and settled in her seat, shaking a leather pouch filled with stones._

_"Who would like to go first?" she inquired._

_Mahana, Michiru, and Keigo all held up their hands and spoke at once._

_"Will I be rich?"_

_"Will I find true love?"_

_"Will I ever get lucky?"_

_The diviner laughed as she spilled the stones on the table. The friends were all puzzled as to why her laughter abruptly subsided. She placed the stones back in the pouch, shook them once more, and upended it again over the table, shaking her head at what she saw. This she repeated, and at the last her lips trembled and a tear trailed down her cheek as she looked up at them._

_"Is it bad news?" asked Tatsuki. Even though she'd rather not believe the wish-wash of this so-called profession, she couldn't help feeling unnerved at the fortune teller's show of emotion._

_The woman chuckled in an attempt to abate the sudden alarm of her customers as she wiped at her cheeks, pasting a smile to allay their worries._

_"The gods," she whispered. "They're watching over you."_

_They all craned their heads, hoping for more._

_"That's a good thing, right? It means we're blessed?" offered Keigo as he laughed nervously._

_She took a deep breath in an effort to compose herself and gave them a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You will all live happily."_

_Tatsuki snorted, shaking her head as she stormed out of the tent. The others followed with disappointed gaits, holding out their coins which the fortune teller refused. The last to leave was the auburn-haired young woman, looking at her worriedly and touching her hand._

_"Will you be alright?" she asked._

_The fortune teller started, and gave her a nod. "Yes, thank you," she replied, her eyes roaming over the girl wonderingly. "You," said she as she held the girl's hand, tracing the lines on her palm. "You will go beyond. You will lose a lot, but gain so much more. And you will rise, higher than anyone can ever imagine. And you will love, and be loved, so strongly and full of passion."_

_The young woman didn't quite know how to react to anything the fortune teller said, except to grasp the last thing which seemed to her, at her age, to be the most pressing matter. "Is it anyone I know?"_

_"Yes."_

_"From the village?"_

_"No. And I can't say anymore." The fortune teller released her hand._

_"Oh." She nodded, and then bowed. "Well, thank you very much. Here." She held out a coin._

_The older woman shook her head. "Consider it a gift. Farewell."_

_"Goodbye." She left, only to meet Tatsuki outside waiting for her with her arms crossed._

_"I hope you're not going to believe whatever hogwash she told you," said the black-haired girl._

_She smiled in reply as she tucked her hand into her friend's elbow. It was just done for fun, and she promptly dismissed them from her mind as they set off to follow the rest of their friends to take in more of the sights and sounds of the fair._

* * *

As soon as she passed through the dining room doors, she ran. Down the corridor, left to another hallway, straight through a gallery, she ran.

In her mind, Orihime conjured up images of what she desired: the outside, fresh air―and the house of the God of Life complied and brought her to a set of double doors that led out to the labyrinth garden.

She leapt down the stone steps and into the arched opening set in the hedge wall, all the green that surrounded her reminding her of a time, of a life that now seemed to belong to someone else. She flew left and right through the maze, her mind's eye seeing instead the tall trees, errant bushes, and the rambling roots of the woods that bordered Karakura. Her skirts were hitched up to free her legs with one hand while the other tightly held her friend Tatsuki's, their laughter resounding as their friends chased them: Michiru, Ryo, Mahana, Chizuru, and Keigo...Mizuiro was the only one who couldn't be bothered, instead left behind to chase the skirts of older women.

It was a simple life in the village; theirs was the field of innocence. There were days when they would hold a picnic under a tree at the edge of the woods, and her friends hardly would try out her contributed concoctions.

Chizuru, as they started to grow older and their bodies began to change, would sit very close to her, hands inching up to grope her enlarging breasts only to be pounded down by Tatsuki.

Keigo, meanwhile, would awkwardly try to steal a kiss from any one of them―with the exception of Mizuiro, of course―once even blindly managing to land one on Tatsuki, only to be subsequently given a harsh beating by her. They had never been able to tell if her flushed cheeks had been because of the impromptu kiss or her not-as-enraged-as-she-usually-would-have-been anger. And he...well he had been rather proud of himself despite the bruises he'd earned because of it, and blazed by the experience of the kiss, would always attempt to catch her off-guard for more.

Mizuiro, whenever he would deign to join them, would always be distracted by the numerous love letters from his various paramours.

There were talks of plans for the future, of what they would be doing and where would they be once they reached the age of adulthood. Orihime had wanted to apprentice herself to the baker in the village square, much to the mortified looks of her friends as they eyed the eldritch and interesting meals she'd brought.

There were talks of the village boys, of which Keigo would pout petulantly over since he wasn't included in the choicest and most eligible that the girls would preen and sigh for. There were talks of betrothals, of marriages, of children, of the increasing appeal of spinsterhood (according to Tatsuki as she eyed Keigo), and of the far more enrapturing topic of other women (according to Chizuru as she eyed Orihime). There were discussions on mating, springtime or otherwise, between married couples _or_ otherwise, whom they could spy conveniently from their perch of which then would become the scandalous gossip circulating the village.

Her steps slowed, brought back to the present by the burning of her lungs and the wild palpitations of her heart.

In that seemingly much distant past, Orihime had figured she would be going through the motions as was expected: marriage to a nice boy (that of course her brother would need to approve of first), settling down somewhere in their own abode, bear children, work. Continue on in that peaceful life where one day was the same as the next. She knew that none of them could ever have the prescience to see what would befall them so suddenly, of an epidemic that killed many so quickly, of her being offered to the God of Death to put a stop to it.

Back then, their future had seemed so far away, their youth long and lasting, with so many possibilities lying in wait. Who could ever have foreseen how drastically their lives had changed? She was so far away now from that time, that place, that life. Now, there was no slender hand to hold hers, to squeeze in comfort and support, to help lead her away from the numerous confusions that consumed her. Here, there was no Tatsuki to bop her on her head for wanting to flee instead of facing the situations presented to her.

She stumbled and fell to her knees, much like what would usually have happened then due to her clumsiness, but unlike in her memories, Tatsuki wasn't here to help her up. She was alone.

Tatsuki was the strong one. If she were here with her now as she stood poised at the cusp of such a momentous change that would utterly alter her life, Orihime knew that she wouldn't feel as afraid or as overwhelmed because Tatsuki was her source of strength and confidence. She would be able to face it straight on and forge ahead into the unknown future.

A sob, a heaving sigh. How the world had suddenly changed for all of them. Most of them had descended while she herself was on the brink of an ascension. She was a lone human among this parade of gods, the bride of one and expected to be mother to another, and soon anticipated to no longer be human.

Too much in so little time. She couldn't bear the weakness she felt when away from Tatsuki. All these weeks, she'd buried the yearning for her old life deep inside her, purged all thoughts of the people she used to know, smiled on the outside in the hope that that smile would become real and that she could truly look forward to what was in store for her.

She rose and ambled away further into the maze, idly running a hand against the leafy wall as she strove to even her breathing, with each exhale willing herself to burrow away her feelings and memories once more. She had to be strong.

Turning a corner, she found herself in a clearing with a backless stone bench at its centre. Across from it was a gate, solid and nondescript, with no way to view what lay beyond it. It had no handle, she'd found as she tapped around its surface.

She sighed as she turned away and sat on the bench. Even if, somehow, it turned out to be an escape from this world, she still had an obligation. For all intents and purposes she had been gifted to the Death God; and her life was, as all human lives were, for the gods' to do with as they pleased. If they wished to grant her godhood, then she had no other choice than to accept it, graciously if not gratefully.

Orihime started as the hedge wall right by her parted to a doorway, revealing an intimidating-looking man with black hair, three parallel scars that ran over his right eye from forehead to chin, with two numbers tattooed on his left cheek. He eyed her wonderingly.

"Are you, by any chance, Orihime?" inquired he.

She could only give a nod as reply, her eyes roaming over his features and meeting his pin-like narrow eyes.

He gave a bow. "I am Shuuhei Hisagi, one of the Scribes of the Gods. I've been summoned to interview you."

"Interview me?" parroted she, puzzled. "What is it for?"

"For the story of your life and marriage to the God of Death. I have been charged with the honour of writing it."

"Oh," she responded, frowning. "Wha―?"

"We Scribes are the ones who write the tales of the gods' lives, which we then distribute to the mortal world as stories. It's so the facts are straight and no one makes any made-up stories about them."

"Ah. I see. Are you the one writing the story of Rukia―I mean, the Goddess of Snow's marriage to Renji?"

"No, that honour fortunately belongs to another scribe, Yasuchika Iemura."

"You sound really relieved when you said that."

"Oh, yes, very. The God of Night and Spring is a very hard one to please. So it's best that someone else got the job."

"Hmm, yes, he does seem uptight when I met him last night."

"Yes," he chuckled, then stopped to look behind him to check in case the god in question had heard and smite him on the spot. He sighed with relief. "May I?" He gestured to the space beside her. She nodded, shifting to gather her skirts closer to her as he sat. He cleared his throat, unrolling the scroll he'd tucked under his arm and whipping out a quill and ink bottle. "So how did you and the Death God meet? Was there a courtship? Was it a sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of romance? Love at first sight? Any details would be appreciated if I'm to give this story justice."

"Er, we met at the Lunar Palace…"

He began to write, looking at her expectantly to continue, his quill poised.

She eyed the sky as she thought of what else she could say. "...He did sweep me off my feet when I got there..." She trailed off, blushing.

"Anything else? Like, how did you come to be his bride?"

"Er, my village gave me to him as a sacrifice?" She giggled nervously, rubbing the back of her head as he stared at her, blinking.

"Oh. Oooh, I understand. One of those types of marriages." He bent down and wrote a bit on the scroll. "So then, how do you feel about the God of Death?"

Orihime played around with the fabric of her skirt, fiddled with the fine embroidery and bead-work on it. "I think he's very kind and generous. He's provided a lot for me, and I'm really grateful to him. I hope that I can return in kind by being a good wife and mother to any children I may bear him."

For a moment, only the sound of a quill scratching on paper could be heard. And then, "Do you love him?"

She stared at him, eyes widened. "Eh?"

"Do you love him?"

"I...he's...well, we're...and..." She bit her lip worriedly, her eyes landing on the numbers on his cheek, a memory tickling the edge of her mind. "What stories have you written?" She burst out in an effort to stray from his line of questioning.

He was taken aback, realizing what she was trying to do and nonetheless obliging her to put her at ease. "You want my credentials, I suppose. Uh, let's see…" He thought for a moment, tapping the quill against the paper. "There was the story of the Goddess of Order and the God of Summer, of how when they first met the God of Silence flower petals descended upon the two gods, only it really was just the Goddess of Order throwing them down for dramatic effect as requested of the God of Summer. Do you know that one?"

"No, I don't think I've heard of that story."

"Oh. Well, it's not really my best work. How about the tale of the Fox God and the Goddess of Love and Fertility?"

Orihime tilted her head, wondering why he suddenly turned beet red as he spoke of the goddess's name. Her gaze strayed once again to the numbers on his cheek. "Are you the sixty-ninth scribe?" she asked.

"Eh?"

She pointed to his cheek. "Are the scribes numbered? Is that your rank?"

"Oh." He nodded his head, understanding her. "It's um, how shall I say this? It's for aesthetic purposes? Um, in honour of someone..." He couldn't help colouring even more.

Her brows furrowed. "Rangiku…" she muttered to herself.

"Er…"

"Eh. Eh? Ehhh?" She sputtered, pointing at him as a thought clicked into place. "The worshiper at the Goddess of Love and Fertility's temple! She was telling us a story last night about a position―" She slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide, her cheeks blooming with embarrassment, although as she looked at him, her own didn't quite match his.

He sprang up from the seat as though burned, face aflame, clutching to him the quill and paper. "Maybe we should do this some other time? I really must be going now. I just remembered something I have to do that's really very urgent." He hastened back through the opening from whence he came, hands fisted at his sides. She watched as he broke into a run.

"I'm sorry!" she yelled out, hands cupped over her lips, hoping he'd heard her just as the leafy wall began to join up once more, covering the doorway he'd made as though there never had been one at all. Orihime hadn't really meant to embarrass him; she felt just as equally mortified.

She put her hands over her face and shook her head, sighing as she thought about the question that she hadn't been able to provide a response to even though the answer was simply 'yes.'

It would be thoroughly unfair to admit it to a stranger and not to the object of her affection.

_"...You will love, and be loved, so strongly and full of passion..."_ came the fortune teller's words in her head, reminding her of a time she'd already forgotten about.

She laid down on the bench, gazing up at the sky framed by the tops of the hedge walls. She'd thought it was just one of those things that fortune tellers said to please the crowd, a nice and general token of good news to earn a bit of coin. But the teller's tears foretold of the misfortune that came upon the village, and then what she'd told Orihime after everyone else had left...

_"You will go beyond. You will lose a lot, but gain so much more. And you will rise, higher than anyone can ever imagine."_

It seemed they weren't the hogwash that Tatsuki originally thought them to be after all.

* * *

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Byakuya - God of the Night and Spring  
Nanao - Goddess of Order  
Shunsui - God of Summer  
Sado - God of Silence  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Hisagi - a Scribe (servant to the gods among whose duties include the recording of the gods' lives to distribute as stories to humans)

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011


	10. afterlife

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's continuing to enjoy this story :)

Flashback order: 2, 9, 3, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, **10**.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Revision notes: The full unedited and uncensored version of this chapter can be found at **the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

**Chapter 10: Afterlife**

* * *

_Clad in her wedding attire, she walked by the freshly dug graves of the ones that were taken by the plague to pay her last respects. Before every single tombstone, she stopped to place a flower, reciting the name of the one that lay beneath, and prayed._

_Would she find peace like this there? she wondered. The cemetery had never been this full before, she realized as her eyes spanned the expanse, of the many added roughly hewn gravestones that dotted the field. So many lives were claimed that it was a wonder there were still any villagers left._

_It was a common knowledge that the power of the gods were indicated and limited by what they reigned over. So there hadn't been any doubt whatsoever in any of the villagers' minds that it was the God of Death who had sent the plague. The only question had been: what had they done to have displeased the god so?_

_As the weeks passed, and more that were afflicted succumbed to the sickness, it had become clear that no amount of prayer and penance were enough to please the god. And so it was that the remaining village elders decided upon a sacrifice._

_One life as offering, the propitiator, for the rest of their own. One life, the final death that would put a stopper to the plague._

_She knelt in front of two unmarked gravestones and placed a hand in each. They had been the two who had held the most important places in her heart. As she had already lost them, the pending loss of her own life hadn't mattered to her anymore._

_She turned to one and idly traced the name of the one who laid beneath it with a finger. "I will be going now," said she in a quiet voice. "I don't know what's ahead of me. But I hope that wherever it is, I will get to see you and be with you really soon." She leaned over to kiss the stone, her tears darkening its surface._

_She turned to the other and wrapped her arms around it, eyes blurry with the fall of her tears. She couldn't help the squeak that her voice had become, but she ploughed on. "Sora." His name came out in a stutter with her heaving cry. "I never had the chance to let you know how much you meant to me, as more than a brother, like a father, you were always there. And in your last hours, I've been unkind to you, selfish and ungrateful, thinking more about myself than the pain you were in. I didn't mean to run out on you in your time of need, and it serves me right that the Death God had taken you away from me when I finally returned. You didn't deserve to have me as a wretched sister. And telling you how sorry I am could never be enough to atone for it. I know it's too late, but I'm really sorry. And I hope that wherever you are, you'll be able to forgive me."_

_She swiped at her eyes and her cheeks, sniffing as she stood. She took a deep breath to compose herself. "Farewell," she whispered, and gave each a last lingering look before she made her way to the entrance of the cemetery, where a rickshaw waited to take her to the next life._

* * *

As Ichigo entered his father's house at sunset, colour seeped back into his white form. The ivory hair was stained orange from root to tip, the white and black of his garments inverting as the ebony fur at his collar, cuffs, and ankles blazed to crimson.

He kept his mask over his face as he stalked through the halls of his father's house, striding purposefully down the winding colourful corridors on his way to his quarters when, suddenly, arrows formed out of the mosaics, inciting him to follow. He shook his head and continued on his way, but the house, sensing his defiant gait, rearranged its walls and presented him the double doors that led to the God of Life's council chamber. He stopped in his tracks and turned back around, fists clenching in annoyance. He didn't really feel like talking to his father or any other gods that might wait behind the doors.

He walked away from it, willing the house to realize his wish to be left alone and to be redirected to his chamber, glowering at the insistently flashing mosaic pieces. After a few steps, he halted, finding himself face to face with the same entranceway. An irate growl rumbled from deep within his throat as red streaks of light began to gather between the tips of his horns, close to firing upon the doors and his father.

As the house sensed his growing malevolence, the doors opened on their own accord.

Inside, at the head of a long table, sat the God of Life. Contrary to what Ichigo was expecting, only the God of Invention and the Goddess of Love and Fertility were the other occupants, sitting on either side of him.

He entered the room, head lowered as he glared at the three, his horns targeting each in case he decided to actually blast them with Cero. The doors closed behind him with a quiet click.

Isshin, ever jovial and with nary a care for his son's irritated stare―having gotten used to it as it was Ichigo's default mood whenever in his presence―greeted him with a big smile. "Ah, good, we caught you just in time."

"You mean you trapped me and I had no other choice but to come here," corrected Ichigo.

"Well, this is very important."

"It had better be, old man. Otherwise, get ready for your house's new renovations."

"Ooh," shivered Rangiku. "Ever the charmer."

Ichigo's nostrils flared as he directed a piercing gaze at the goddess. It was rather ineffective as she remained unfazed, sending him a wink and blowing him a kiss. "If _you're_ here," he said as he nodded towards Rangiku, "then this has to do with Orihime. What did you do to her now? Didn't I tell you to stay away from her?"

"Now, now." She waved a finger at him. "Is that any way to treat the one who gave you the best wedding present?"

He sputtered. "We don't need your meddling when it comes to stuff like that."

"Stuff like what?" she asked in a syrupy voice with a pout.

"None of your business!"

She laughed.

"She doesn't need aphrodisiacs or whatever it was you gave her." He crossed his arms over his chest. "She's already good the way she is."

"Oh?" The goddess raised an eyebrow in response while his father coughed into his fist, finding the ceiling rather interesting.

"Whatever it is you're thinking, that's not what I meant."

"How very enlightening, Mr Death, sir." The tow-headed God of Invention finally spoke up, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a leering smile as he adjusted his green and white striped hat.

"What the hell are you even doing here?"

"Ara, I live here, as you know."

"Still? I can't believe you haven't been kicked out yet."

"You're so distrustful of me―"

"It's because you've given me no incentive to ever trust you."

The God of Invention flipped open his fan and hid behind it, his shadowed grey eyes peeking over its zigzag top. "I suppose it's straight down to business, then. If you must know―"

"I don't really want to," interrupted the Death God resignedly, "but it's not gonna stop you from telling me anyway."

"Oh, it would be of utmost benefit to you and the madam," smiled Kisuke, and cleared his throat. "Even though I'm also the God of Knowledge and totally getting off on this, this is something that is important as it pertains to you both. As I was saying, I've been inspecting the properties of the mead that was given to your bride last night. As well, I've also been charged with concocting the brew that would grant her godhood."

"Like hell she's going to drink anything you made."

"She would need it as she's on her way to bearing your offspring."

"What?"

"Under normal circumstances, the state of her pregnancy will not be known for some time. However, with the mead that's provided by the Goddess of Love and Fertility, it has heightened and drastically increased her chances that, unless you want to lose her so soon, she has no other recourse than to accept godhood."

Ichigo could only reply in silence. He knew that there were a lot of risks in coming to his father's house, most notable of which was the meddling of the other gods. They just could not help playing with a mortal's life when they have one in such a close proximity.

And he _had_ thought of granting her godhood some time in the future, when she was more settled in living among gods. He knew that while she had adjusted, she hadn't acclimated herself fully yet, that there were still traces of her old life that she was missing. He had wanted to broach the subject gradually and give her the choice about the matter. Godhood was something that shouldn't be taken lightly, and for a mortal, the transition to immortality and change would be great.

And now, there would be the added matter of a god's offspring. He could only shake his head as he glared at Rangiku. What a cruel entrapment. He wondered just how far she and his father schemed of this. He should've known better. He should've been on better guard of himself last night especially after he found out Orihime had been drugged. But he hadn't known who was the culprit nor could he have any idea just how much it could affect them, especially her.

"The mead is enhanced by the goddess's power," Kisuke went on, taking the Death God's silence as his cue to continue. "It is only to be used by those who are infertile and who come to her temple to pray to be gifted offspring. Simply put, as well as acting as a highly potent aphrodisiac, it induces instant ovulation regardless of whatever stage of monthly cycle the woman is in. Add in the fact that you've procreated with your bride within the house of the God of Life, there is only one conclusion that this will lead to.

"As you know, there has never been a successful account of mortals bearing the children of gods. It changes their bodies' chemical makeup to such an extent that they cannot survive it. Immortal cells are what's necessary to house gestating godlings inside their bodies. And that's what your new bride will need in order to be able to successfully birth your offspring."

Ichigo clenched his fists, trying to control his breathing as he tried to process every word the God of Knowledge and Invention uttered. Now was not the time for regret. He needed to find Orihime and see if she had already been made aware of the situation.

A small Cero split the table in half lengthwise as the Death God stormed out of the room. It was a controlled enough blast that it only affected said furniture and didn't reach his father, who sat at the end with both his hands held out and legs raised up against him as he watched the table spread out and collapse. The three silenced and surprised gods looked at each other.

Kisuke flipped his fan closed. "I think he took it rather well."

* * *

The house of the God of Life suddenly became so in tuned with his desire to find Orihime that the double doors of the council chamber immediately led outside to the labyrinth garden. The hedge walls parted to make way for the Death God, clearing a path for his purposeful prowling and closing once again behind him. Deeper and deeper he went, disturbing gods mid-tryst within the maze, ready to issue a protest until they discovered that it was him and away they scampered. At last he reached the clearing upon whose bench Orihime laid in, and his eyes gentled at the sight as he pulled his mask off and transformed into his sunset form, the long orange hair shortening into soft spikes, claws smoothing down and receding back to his fingers.

She slept as though dead, straight on her back with hands clasped over her middle. Ichigo knelt by her head, staring at her upside-down with hands splayed against the spread of her hair as he leant down to drop a kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, and her lips. Her eyes blinked open; a princess awakened, eyes clear and bright as they gazed up at him. A small smile stretched the corners of her mouth as she reached up with both hands to draw him down to her.

Her lower lips between his were plump and soft, pliant against his onslaught. Hungrily, her moans and sighs were captured, and she readily gave as he sought for more. Her mouth opened underneath his, the tip of her tongue against his lips inviting his own to play with hers, and it was his turn to yield, lips parting to suckle hers before massaging it with his tongue.

It was with a sigh that he broke away, laying his head down on her shoulder with his nose against her neck, drinking in her heady scent as her fingers massaged his scalp.

"There's something I have to tell you," said he softly as he raised his head, standing to pace away, his back towards her. He heard the rustle of fabric as she rose to sit, and felt the weight of her stare on him, attentive and curious.

"When gods are born, it's not always that they'd immediately have or know their power. Most of the time, it manifests later. I was young when my power called upon me, and the first death I had to usher was my mother's."

He turned his head, his profile lit against the darkening sky as the Night God's sakura petals rose up to take their place as stars.

"I shouldn't have brought you here."

As though Orihime sensed the disquiet that lay beyond his words, she went to him and embraced him from behind, leaning her cheek against a shoulder blade. His hands hesitantly rose and enveloped both of hers, squeezing gratefully at her show of comfort.

"It's my fault. I should've been on guard; I couldn't protect you."

"From what?" she whispered, puzzled.

"From the other gods. From myself."

"I don't understand."

"They want to turn you into a god. Because of last night, because of what the Goddess of Fertility gave you, because of what happened between us within the house of the God of Life, you might already be with child."

"You make it sound like they're all related somehow."

"They are. Humans die when they try to bear the children of gods, that's why they want to grant you godhood."

He felt her stiffen behind him, her hands retracting from his hold as she moved away. Slowly, he turned and watched her lower herself back on the bench. In two strides, he reached her and fell to his knees in front of her, feeling unable to touch her for fear he might cause her yet more harm.

"I don't have much power over life," offered he with sad brown eyes. "But I do if it's anything of mine. I can take it away...if you don't want it. If you feel that you're not ready or you hate the idea of it―"

Orihime's hands rose and cupped his cheeks, halting his words. She couldn't quite stare at him, could only gaze down at the possibility that might already be residing within her. Too much, too many things hitting her in one day. Her head was in a jumble, and a deep, tired exhale escaped from her, her stomach contracting as she tried to organize her thoughts.

"How about you?" asked she quietly as she mulled over the choice he was giving her. "Do you want it?"

"Anything of yours, I will make mine," he replied, voice just above a whisper.

Before anything could really begin, he could stop it. Just like that. Simple and fast, as though it hardly mattered, although she knew by the weight of his tone that it did to him. Very much.

And her? How did she really feel about this?

Her eyes rose and met his gaze.

* * *

With a groan he slapped her rump before flopping down beside her on the bed. Chest heaving, her insides still throbbing, she straightened her legs underneath her from their kneeling position and settled down to lay better on her stomach.

She turned her head and glared at him when she heard his immediate snores, raising her upper body by her elbows and leaning her cheek on one hand. She blew air up at a sweat-dampened lock of purple hair on her forehead before reaching over for her leaf-ornamented mirror. Reflected back were a flushed face, glowing skin, and heavy-lidded orange eyes. Without her moving, the surface of the mirror panned down to reveal her back. Fresh scratches marred her skin, crisscrossing against the older scars made from the God of Destruction's claws, evidence of a lover wild and rough. She sighed, shifting her hips in an effort to alleviate her soreness.

How long had it been since she'd first come here to his lair? After breaking off with the Death God, she'd immediately called upon to the God of Destruction, sending him a black butterfly to seek an audience. As with the former, she'd offered herself in exchange for his assistance in her vengeance upon a village. He'd scoffed at first, citing that the God of Death had already done his work, and all that was left was to wait for the inevitable conclusion.

After she'd responded that there was one villager that seemed to be under the Death God's protection and that he was in love with her, Grimmjow perked up, his interest piqued. As acceptance to her request, he'd held out his hand, and she knelt in front of him, ready to begin performing her part of the bargain.

Since the Death God had taken steps to ensure that that young woman would escape the fate of the village, there had been nothing she and the God of Destruction could do. Despite the original arrangement that brought them together, the two of them had continued on their relationship.

The mirror rippled, and the God of Death appeared before her, asleep, the serene expression gracing his features juxtaposed against the ever-remaining scowl. _You betrayed me_, she mouthed as the view zoomed out to show an auburn-haired young woman's head tucked under his chin, their arms wrapped around each other in peaceful slumber. She gritted her teeth to curb the sudden rage that threatened to boil over her at the sight, and brusquely shook her head, the mirror wiping clean to reveal her reflection.

Senna slammed the mirror face down on her pillow and tried to even her breathing. The Death God might have won a round when he took that human from the mortal world, but to her, that only meant that that woman was brought closer to where she was in the realm of gods. The only question now was: how would the Goddess of Autumn be able to access her?

* * *

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Isshin - God of Life  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Grimmjow - God of Destruction  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn (filler character from Bleach: Memories of Nobody movie)

Thanks for reading :)  
Jan/2011; revised 2012


	11. root

A/N: After January ended, I looked back to a very productive month writing-wise. That was a lot of words produced in a short amount of time compared to my other fics where it took months or even years to get them updated. And I found myself pretty exhausted, so I decided to take a week's break from writing. I have to say it was really hard to get back into the groove once that week was done, and that's why this new chapter was only finished now *lol*  
I just, as always, want to thank you all for your continued enjoyment of this fic. Receiving and reading your comments gave me a boost to continue on, so thank you all very much :)

Incidentally, have you guys seen episode 309? Wasn't that uber awesome? I only wished that they stretched the scenes with Mugetsu!Ichigo and made him appear for another episode or something.

Flashback order: 2, 9, 3, **11**, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 10.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 11: Root**

* * *

_The village was quiet, nary a soul to be seen in its fields or its streets. The once lively flowers that decorated its square were left to decay along the gables and roofs, on its dry fountain and stone statues. Shriveled petals and leaves scrunched beneath his feet at the display of the death he brought forth for the Goddess of Autumn._

_The game that gods played was a simple one: a mortal's life was the pawn to do with as they pleased. The humans were their marionettes, their chess pieces, their toys. Theirs to control whether to grant death or let live. The reason for their game was usually out of petulant pride, deeming that that mortal had insulted them and therefore must be punished for such an affront. Most of the time, the gods meted out their punishment based on their power. If she had so wished, the Goddess of Autumn could have had the village's crops wither and have none of their farming to have borne fruit for the fall harvest, and in the end they would have died either from starvation or from the cold of the coming winter._

_But that wouldn't be quick enough for her. And so she had come to him, implored him for his assistance and power, and he had sent the plague upon the village in her name._

_Behind him came the sound of rapid footsteps. He turned. A young woman with auburn hair rushed through the square, the_ clop-clop _of her shod feet against the cobblestones the only sounds that disturbed the silence. She passed through him as if he were smoke, intangible, invisible, and even so he felt as though she had touched his heart, his hand reaching out to grasp the ends of her hair, feeling them slip through his insubstantial fingers as she ran._

_Since he'd first seen her through the goddess's mirror, he had felt something lurch inside his chest; his heart, long dormant, awakened. He had frowned at the sensation. Him? For a mortal? A being of death, love was not something he had ever thought could even apply to him. Even as a god, he was beyond it. Gods came together, and sometimes they even married each other...but overall, the cycle of life was something they merely imitated from mortals. As immortal creatures, they really had no need for something that would place them ineffably closer to their human reflection. Dallying with mortals was a fruitless endeavour. Some gods would pursue affairs out of boredom, like a cat playing with their rodent prey. Seldom would it ever result in something more._

_And now here he stood, pining, desiring. Even if his heart lay in the sky, he could still feel its beat, a rhythmic tattoo of yearning he couldn't bear to deny or ignore. It became such that he didn't know anymore whether he came here to Karakura out of the fulfillment of his duty or to see and be close to her. All he knew was that he wanted so much to become more than what their stories made him to be: the proud usher to their final peace. He wanted her to see_ him. _The one that only the other gods ever got to see: his most human form, that somehow, now, felt very human indeed._

_He stalked the streets in her wake, alighting upon the open doorway of a small house. At the entrance, he heard her voice, tearful and loaded with denial, and he watched as she fell to her knees at the bedside of a dead friend._

_"Tatsuki!" cried she as she clutched a lifeless hand to her cheek, body shaking with grief. "No...Tatsuki."_

_A soul with spiky black hair knelt beside her, ghostly arms wrapped around the still-living girl, and her voice was rife with disbelief as she muttered, "Orihime, I'm dead...I'm dead...You're crying, Orihime, because I'm dead..."_

_"Tatsuki...first Keigo, then Mizuiro and the others...my brother is sick too, and now you're gone."_

_"I can't...I don't know...I'm dead, Orihime. I was just sleeping, about to wake up, and then...I'm here, outside, beside...not in there."_

_He stood behind them, the golden eyes beneath the mask impassive, hiding the sorrow he felt at what he had caused. The black-haired girl heard his footsteps and turned to look at him._

_"You? You're real?" she asked in wonder, standing, and then her brows furrowed as she gazed at her body on the bed, at her friend on the floor, and at the chain over her heart._

_She ran to him, her fists beating at his chest. "Why did you do this? Why did you send us the plague? What have we done to you? How have we offended you?" She slid to her knees, an uncustomary sob wracking her body. "Because of you, I have to leave Orihime. Because of you, her brother is dying too. Because of you, all our friends are dead and our whole village is perishing. Because of you...Because of you..."_

_It was with deep regret that he raised the materialized sword over her head, and gently brought the tip of its hilt on her forehead, her voice fading as her soul vanished. As he lowered his hand, the weapon dissolved, evanescent into the air, and he could only hope her soul would find a measure of peace._

_He crouched behind the crying girl, curving his body over hers and wrapping her in his embrace, even though he knew that she wouldn't be able to feel the weight of his arms._

_This was as much as he could give as he watched her world continue to crumble around her._

* * *

Back in their chamber, it was with a tired sigh that Ichigo laid down on the bed, slung an arm over his eyes and tried to let the troublesome day escape him with a deep exhale. He felt the shift of the mattress as Orihime settled beside him, and sensed her on her side hovering over him worriedly. Peeking at her from under his arm, he watched as she gnawed at her lower lip, sensing the thoughts that fluttered incessantly within her mind. He raised his arm and pressed his palm against her neck as his thumb stroked her cheek, her eyes flying to him momentarily before being veiled by her lids. She sighed as she leaned into his touch.

"I meant it earlier," begun he, voice hushed. "The choice is all yours. You don't have to make the decision now."

Her hand encased his arm, squeezing as she stroked up and down. He felt her tremble, and more than anything, he wanted to ease her troubles, seeking his own thoughts for anything that would give her an ounce of solace.

As a notion took root in his mind, he weighed its possible consequence. Maybe it would be selfish of him to utter it, but having her to himself all these weeks...it was all he could do to prevent the words from bursting free. All the time he spent with her seemed like a precious wish-fulfillment. Everything he had come to desire had come to be in his grasp, regardless of the circumstance of how it came to be there. He was filled with encompassing and indescribable joy...and yet―every time he held her in his arms, he could feel every second of her mortal life ticking by, reminding him that this was ephemeral, and that she was destined to slip from his hold. And no matter how much he wished to force the impending situation otherwise, the last thing he would ever want was for her to become a caged bird. It was torment even as he felt his chest expand, bearing the furious beat of his heart, all of him ripe and ready to burst with love for her.

His thumb made its way to her lips, feeling the evidence of her life puffing out of her in even breaths. "Orihime," he whispered desperately; he could stay himself no longer. "I love you."

Her eyes flew open and locked on his, her grip on his arm tightened and he felt her pulse jump beneath his palm. And steadily he held her gaze and willed her to see, to believe, the naked emotion exhibited in his very being. He lay, open and vulnerable, for her to do with as she pleased: to reject, to crush, to raze―a part of him fervently hoping for the opposite. Even if she harboured resentment toward him and her current situation, he knew she was too tender-hearted to express them.

The minutes stretched and they were held suspended. The sudden rapping at the chamber door made them both jump, the spell between them broken. He sat, releasing his hold on her, her own hand falling away, strength-less. After being held down and held fast by that seeming eternity of silence, he swallowed the lump that had grown in his throat and managed to give her a small smile before making his way to the door.

Ichigo wasn't at all surprised to find Sado there, sent down by his father to summon him. He didn't realize how grateful he was for the interruption, shaking his head at the quiet question that lay in the other man's eyes. He nodded and closed the door, citing that he would meet his father shortly. As he turned back, each step he took toward Orihime was heavy and instilled with despair. She sat in the same position, unmoved throughout this whole time, and he masked his thoughts and feelings with his blackening eyes, his lengthening hair shielding his gaze. He reached out, his claw barely touching the tendrils of her hair, rueful at the thought of that monstrous hand that dared to touch such beauty, that sullied something pure. His own obsession and selfishness brought him to this. Just because he loved her didn't mean that she reciprocated his feelings.

He curled his hand into a fist as the other brought his mask down over his face, turning abruptly and making his way back to the door. "My father calls. It might be a while before he'll let me go. You should rest. I'll make sure they won't disturb you."

For a few short heartbeats, he waited for a reply that never came, disappointment and ache heavy in his chest as he turned the handle.

"Goodnight," he said as he crossed the threshold, and closed the door.

* * *

Inside the God of Life's council chamber, the God of Death examined something given to him by the God of Invention and Knowledge. Within a small vial was a viscous liquid in a sickly green colour. Ichigo held it up to the light, and it seemed to emit a radioactive spark. He glared at it, then at Kisuke. More than anything, he wanted to crush the vial between his claws, but that seemed like it would do more harm than good as it could leave a garish green stain on his white skin for all eternity, and he wouldn't doubt that Kisuke would be devious enough to concoct it that way.

"You can't be serious," said he incredulously, flicking a glance between the vial and the maker. "This can't be right. This can't be what Orihime will need to drink to attain godhood. You fucked up real good and fobbing off your own vomit or something―"

Kisuke flipped his fan open and demurely peered at him from behind it. "I assure you, Mr Death, sir, that I did no such thing. It is one-hundred per cent pure ambrosia and nectar. Just because they have pretty names doesn't mean they have to look pretty." His eyes roved the ceiling as he thought for a moment. "Or taste nice."

"How did you get this ready so fast anyway? Doesn't it usually take a while to brew?"

"Fortunately, I've had the foreknowledge of anticipating that such a concoction would be required, so I made it ahead of time. It's best to be prepared should such an occasion arise, after all."

Ichigo sighed with resignation. He should've known. He stared back at the brew held between his forefinger and thumb. It was making him feel sick just looking at it. He was really loathe to give it to Orihime. He shook his head, feeling all the more like a fool. Seldom had regret ever filled him, but lately it seemed to be his constant companion ever since he accepted his father's invitation.

"I don't recall Renji's looking like this," said Ichigo.

"Renji's was different because he's already immortal," explained the tow-headed god behind his fan. "His cellular construct didn't need to be restructured, hence the unnecessary addition of such an ingredient. But the madam, on the other hand, is mortal."

"Is there any particular time that she needs to drink this?"

Kisuke shook his head. "Anytime between now and the future birthing should be good. But the sooner taken, the better. Since the dram affects each drinker differently, and it's not everyday that mortals are made gods, the possible side effect is currently unknown, especially in regards to her present condition."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the end result is still the same: she'll become one of us. However, the in-between of how she'll get there is the most exciting part."

Ichigo glared. "For you, you mean."

"For everyone, Mr Death, sir," corrected Kisuke. "Although it might be wise that she drink that while still here so that we may examine the variables, just in case."

With a sigh, the Death God pocketed the vial within the folds of his robes as he exited the chamber. He felt restless, nerve-ends itching. He found himself outside, back in the labyrinth garden, pace brisk as he wandered aimlessly. After a while , he broke into a run until he reached the clearing where he had found Orihime earlier, facing the white gate across from the bench where she had lain. With a touch it opened, revealing the vast desert that bordered the domiciles of each god.

The gate closed behind him as he stepped through the threshold, letting the emptiness of the night and the sand fill him.

For a long time before the present circumstance that he now found himself in, he was a god detached. He went about his duties as the God of Death like an automaton, treating all the souls he ushered equally, not getting himself involved. Although he took the form of a man, his existence had been as bleak and lifeless as his house. It was just the way he'd wanted it, a most welcome reprieve, after having been raised by the God of Life and surrounded by the other gods. Perhaps, seeking out that kind of peace had been the outcome of having his mother be the first witness to his power. He was alone, and he preferred it that way.

When love and her brother's subsequent disapproval came to Rukia, she sent the Death God a message to ask for sanctuary. She told him she needed space to think of her next course of action, to plan a way to earn the God of Night's acceptance of Renji, and he had plenty of room in his house. He had been puzzled by her earnestness, by the passion that flared in her eyes, the way she softened as she thought of her lover. To him, it was a curious spectacle, and out of their longtime friendship, he welcomed them both into his home.

It was only later that he'd learned that his father had been worried for him for shunning the company of the other gods, and had recommended Rukia his house for her situation as well as to keep an eye on him.

It wasn't that he was envious of the bliss that now filled his friends' lives and wished the same for himself. Love applying to him was unexpected, especially in light of the circumstance that brought it. All he knew was that he had found something that had suddenly become the core of his being, and that he would do anything to keep it, to protect and cherish, even if he hadn't known exactly how to go about achieving those. And at the root of it, he also knew that he wanted Orihime to want the same things.

_But what would she do, Ichigo?_ His conscience spoke, and oddly in the voice of the Goddess of Autumn. _How would she feel when she learns just how deeply entrenched you are in the plot that brought her to you? How you've manipulated events so that the village chose her to be the one who came to you?_

He clenched his fists at the grain of fear he felt at that thought. He had been blinded by his own desire that he'd done everything he could to prevent her from perishing from the plague. He did the only thing he knew that could protect her.

Hopelessness pervaded him as his footsteps left a long trail in the sand. The Death God had walked so far that his father's house could not be seen beyond the sand dunes. He sighed as he alighted upon an oasis, long dried up with only a lone, gnarled tree to keep it company, lowering himself onto a jagged outcrop of rock as he stared up at the night sky, the clouds covering the first quarter of his moon-heart.

His eyes roamed over the expanse of desolation before him, his own feelings mirroring the forlorn surroundings. His frown deepened as he stared at the tree. What he had taken for another of its sharp branches were the long horns and the wings of the God of Despair.

* * *

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Mystery Man (2) - God of Despair and Visions

Thanks for reading :)  
Feb/2011


	12. wherefore

A/N: Thanks once again for letting me know you're still following this fic, my very best beloveds :)

Flashback order: 2, 9, 3, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, **12**, 4, 10.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 12: Wherefore**

* * *

_The force of the Cero had blown the God of Destruction away, but he knew, even as he watched the panther-god disintegrate, that it was far from succumbing to death. For that, he would have to wait._

_He panted, lowered to his knees, blood trickling from the cut that crumbled his mask. The only ounce of fear he felt was for his charge, and he turned, half-crawling over to the unconscious young woman._

_He examined her, relieved to find nothing of note that indicated she had been hurt. At the most, she would blame her collapse on clumsiness caused by desperation as she sought out a way to alleviate the pain her brother was presently held by._

_He rested his forehead by her shoulder with a sigh, feeling himself begin to heal, the scars and scratches made by the panther-god's claws closing up. Even through the relief, he felt prickled at the increased danger that now loomed over this human girl. He had been expecting the Goddess of Autumn to turn to another god and seek out their aid. And he was wise to keep vigil, but he couldn't stay watchful over Orihime like this forever, couldn't be everywhere at once. Soon the plague he sent would kill everyone in the village, and there were the rest of his duties to contend over._

_As much as he was tempted to steal her away right now, he didn't want her to look at him as though he was a monster for doing so. He wanted it to be her choice, her own decision to come to him._

_But how would he be able to manage that?_

_"Why?" Came a voice above him, even and emotionless despite the curiosity inherent in the question. "What is this?"_

_He sprung up, sword at the ready, and found despair staring back at him, blinking owlishly with its green gaze._

_Tear tracks of jade and black furrowed brows belied the dispassionate expression on its marble countenance. "I, the God of Vision and Despair, see this, and I cannot fathom it. Are you not Death? Why do I sense that you want to claim this life for a purpose other than your function of death? Why save a life that is bound to die?"_

_"What are you doing here?" answered he instead with another question, wondering just how much of his actions of late had been noticed by the other gods. He would rather not have them spectating and speculating on his current interests, especially regarding this human girl. But knowing that he and the Goddess of Autumn parted on not so amiable terms, he couldn't help but be wary of whom else she would plead to aid her cause._

_"To see. I followed the God of Destruction following this woman. Why do you follow her also?"_

_"Because," answered he without hesitance, "my heart told me to." An idea struck him. Unlike the other gods, he had never sought to strike a bargain with another; but facing Despair heightened the desperation that had been seeded in him. He could make use of its power over prescience and sight. For this, he was willing to pay any price._

_"Your heart." It looked up at the sky. "Soon your heart will appear up there, and yet you can still feel it even when you're away from it. Up there, it told you to follow this woman. She is human."_

_"Yes."_

_"There is emptiness inside of me. You should be empty. That hole in your chest makes you empty, and yet you can still feel―"_

_"Ulquiorra."_

_At the sound of its name, the God of Despair directed its unblinking eyes back towards him._

_"Would you, for me, send a vision to the remaining humans in the village beyond this forest?"_

_"A request from the God of Death?" The pale, winged god cocked its head to the side. "Its fulfilment will not be free, and it will be costly."_

_He lowered his eyes, nodding. "I know."_

_"Are you certain of this? Absolutely? Knowing the possibility of what it might take from you?"_

_"Yes. Yes, I am sure."_

_It blinked, green eyes watchful and exhibiting yet more questions. "'Why' becomes ever more loaded, and I am consumed by it. Why are you doing this? For what purpose? Is it because your heart is telling you to undertake these actions? Why is it incomprehensible to me?"_

_He raised his eyes once more to the god before him. Even as his own mind was entangled with the same questions, he couldn't help feeling a modicum of envy that the God of Despair was unable to be consumed by all the confusion and contradicting certainty that had taken hold of him since he'd first lain eyes upon the auburn-haired young woman called Orihime. How could one define something he himself had trouble rationalizing?_

_"Even your heart has no answer," it said at his prolonged silence. "What vision would you have me send?"_

_At the change in topic, he found himself grateful to have something more concrete to readily respond to. "An answer to their prayers: they have to know that there's hope for them, a way to free themselves from this death by plague. And like your vision, that hope itself has a price." He indicated to the woman at his feet. "A suggestion in a dream will be enough."_

_"The God of Despair giving hope? Absurd." It turned, hands in its pockets. The emotionless delivery of its words belied the affront it might have felt as its easy posture displayed its detachment from the matter they had been discussing. "For this request and the contradiction you'll have me perform, I will exact payment someday, God of Death. Know that I will collect before I will fall unto your dominion."_

* * *

Alone now, the Death God's words rang inside her mind, incessant and echoing. Her heart had not stopped racing even as numbness settled over her. At the first fall of tears Orihime finally moved, pins and needles poking beneath the skin of the arm that she'd been leaning against during the span of several minutes from his impromptu confession and after his departure. She had not been expecting to hear those words; she'd frozen, wanting so much for him to retrieve them so that she could carry on with her denial.

Not for the first time, she wondered: why? Why her? They hardly knew each other, and there was a limit to how much she could accept. She'd never once imagined her married life to turn out this way. It was too surreal, and really, didn't these things happen only in stories? Maybe she was still on that boat, still asleep and trapped within this dream, living the absurdity of being the bride of death.

She collapsed upon the space where he had lain, still redolent with his scent, and she inhaled deeply, breaths heavy with the shuddering onslaught of yet more tears. Not knowing how else to proceed, she gave in and let them free, even as she tried to muffle her sobs on the rumpled sheet, curling her body tightly.

Despair encompassed her. Pain, acute and sharp, penetrated her heart. She wanted, more than anything, to believe. It surprised her how attuned she had become to his expressions and emotions. She could sense his feelings lurking, waiting to spring out, but still she wanted to stopper them...because if she accepted them, if she opened up her heart wholly, what would become of her? What would be left of her? How much of herself would be lost to love?

Orihime sprang from the bed and eroded a path from chamber door to balcony door, unable to clear his words from her mind. The silence of the room only served to amplify them. Stopping suddenly, she caught sight of the moon beyond the sheer curtains of the balcony. She bit her lip, reaching out a hand towards that sliver of silver in the sky, disbelief and denial warring for supremacy as she pondered the meaning of her own self-worth to be the one to have captured such a heart.

It was not easy to measure the Death God as a mere man, and one in love, at that. In shape and expression...these almost made it easy to overlook the Other in him, the aspect that was the moon and death.

Her hand lowered, and both clutched tightly at the fabric over her belly. Physically, she did not feel changed. All throughout the day she was told of the possibility that had started to grow within her, and she had been bombarded by all that it could entail. Foraying into the role of 'mother', a change that would bring about yet more change. _Do this_, they said, _and this would happen. Do that, and that could happen_. Choices that were easy for the gods to utter as the consequences would hardly touch them. It hammered home the fact the mettle of gods and humans were vastly different indeed.

_"Orihime, I love you."_

She closed her eyes as she beat her fists over her heart; yet again, she tasted salt at the corner of her mouth as fresh tracks trailed down her cheeks. Little by little over the last few weeks she had begun to open up her heart to the Death God. Those words that professed his feelings toward her...she _had_ been dreading them, for it meant the surrender, wholly and unequivocally, of his entire being to her. As much as she willingly gave her body, she had not felt ready to give her entire self as readily and as easily as he had done.

With the knowledge that he was the cause of all the grievances that had befallen her, it was rather difficult. _'Why?'_ once more riddled her mind. What made him send the plague to her village? For all of her brother's preachings about the Death God's magnanimity, why had he caused death to almost everyone she knew so suddenly and out of the blue? What had they done to offend him? But she herself was afraid to voice these very questions, afraid to ask what became of Karakura after her departure, and could only hope that her sacrifice set them free from the plague.

And she mourned, as she had never allowed herself to before, for all the lives lost, seemingly from the capricious mood of the Death God.

She thought of her brother, of Tatsuki and the rest of her friends, of her neighbours, of the faces she used to greet and now would never again meet. Even through the sadness that encompassed her, Orihime was heartened to remember that their lives had been lived as fully as they could in their short time. There had not been too many grievances; and more importantly, there had been easy camaraderie and carefree laughter. As her tears began to subside, she could almost imagine Tatsuki gently patting her head as though to tell her there was nothing to fear, that it was fine for her to move on and cease to encumber herself with the past.

As much as she wished to reject the cessation of their lives, she had to live on for them. Death was change, and change was a natural part of life, however unexpected and unwelcome it might be. Love and motherhood were also parts of that cycle. And in the midst of all these changes, a new life had begun to form within her, a memorial to all the lives that had brightened her own when she was still in the mortal world. She and this new life gifted by the Death God would be the bearer of all of their memories.

As the last of the tears fell, she felt released, heart expanding at the realization of being requited. All these weeks, she had been bottling her feelings, taking everything that came her way in stride, never freeing her lamenting heart. Now, elation took root inside her and blossomed, and a small laughter escaped her as she directed a gaze full of hope towards the moon.

She was not quite ready yet, but she was getting there.

And now, more than anything, she wanted to bridge the chasm that grew so suddenly between them. She wanted to be with him. The Death God. _Her_ Ichigo.

Orihime couldn't help giggling at the rush of silliness she felt. She sniffed, wiping her eyes, the skin beneath the dried tear tracks tight and taut. Clambering over to the adjacent bathroom, she decided to freshen herself before seeking out her husband.

She now had an answer to his question.

* * *

Resisting skipping down the corridor, Orihime peered through the doorway of one of the banquet halls where the gods have been sojourning for another long night. But finding no shock of orange hair amidst the crowd, she made ready to leave.

"Orihime! There you are. Come over here!" waved the Goddess of Love and Fertility. Rangiku seemed already inebriated, carousing among the cushions with the God of Invention and the Goddess of Cats.

Not for the first time, a compulsion to obey overcame her body, and she was hard-pressed to disregard it. Almost helplessly, she made her way over to their circle, settling herself down by the gods.

"A drink! A drink!" laughed the goddess, smiling brightly as the God of Invention handed a goblet over to Orihime.

"The merrier's the more! _Hic!_" exclaimed Yoruichi as she reached over to clink her cup against the newcomer's. "We were beginning to think that that boy won't be freeing you from his raging appetite any time soon. But I guess you've spent him, huh?" She gave her a wink while jabbing her with an elbow.

Orihime laughed nervously, wondering if she would ever get used to the teasing as she lifted the cup to her lips. A slight frown marred her brow as she caught sight of the green liquid inside, but she shrugged and took a sip. Despite its unappealing appearance, she found that it tasted sweet and crisp, like summer apples, and she couldn't help gulping down the rest.

"Woo, quite a drinker, eh?"

She felt a tingle down her spine, not at all unpleasant. While a headiness settled over her, she found that it brought with it a strange sensation. As she peered over her cup to roam her gaze through the crowd of gods, she was curious to find that they all seemed to emit some sort of pressure, unique to each of their individual spirit. The feeling was a kind of hyper-awareness, but not overwhelming in any manner, and if she concentrated she knew she could identify the gods in the next room or even find another in a different part of the house.

"Ah, that's the first time I've seen you drink without being commanded," said Rangiku as she reached over to refill Orihime's cup.

The latter was slightly disappointed to find it wasn't green, but thought better of it, afraid that her sudden heightened senses might get the better of her the more she drank the concoction that caused it.

"Well, go on, then, drink up. It's not what I gave you last night, if that's what you're worried about."

"Um," began the young woman after a small, careful sip, "I was just wondering if you've seen the Death God around?"

"Oh? I thought you were together since early this evening."

Orihime shook her head. "His father called him, and I haven't seen him since then."

"I met with him when he was summoned," Kisuke finally spoke, grey eyes veiled beneath the brim of his hat. Despite being hidden, she couldn't help but feel the weight of them upon her, seeming to observe her carefully. "But he had left the premises soon after."

"Oh." As the god uttered those words, she found herself easily and almost automatically reaching out with her mind, seeking out a tendril that would indicate where her husband might have gone.

"You're right," said Rangiku, head tilted to the side. "I don't feel him anywhere in here at all."

"Oh." The goddess's response, Orihime found, emphasized the lack of the Death God's presence inside the house of the God of Life. There was a void, gaping and hollow, within the house that had begun to mirror her within. Her earlier elation dissipated as she only now came to realize what his absence could mean.

After having been consumed by her own feelings, and recalling their time together earlier in their chamber, she began to see how hurt he must have been when she answered him in silence following his declaration. Comprehension dawned on her, of the notion that maybe gods and humans weren't so different after all, that it was only power that truly separated them. That they could suffer heartache just the same as a human, and that they could have a similar reaction to it. He must have left, wanting to get away from the merriment of the celebrations inside the house, away from her.

"Oh, do not be so disheartened, my dear. Come here." Rangiku, seeing her deflation, crawled over and enveloped Orihime in her arms, pulling the young woman's head to rest under her chin. "I'm sure he's around somewhere. Maybe some urgent business came up or something. No need to fret. But if you must, cry into my bosom."

Orihime released a sigh. Even though she could feel the telltale pinpricks of tears, they would not fall, frozen at the precipice of her lower lids. Numbly, she allowed herself to be coddled by the goddess, however unable to feel the comfort she provided, aware of the watchful gaze of the God of Invention but feeling detached when normally she would be self-conscious.

Inside her, there was only despair.

* * *

APPENDIX

Grimmjow - God of Destruction  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn (filler character from Bleach: Memories of Nobody movie)  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Ulquiorra - God of Despair and Visions  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Urahara - God Knowledge and Invention  
Yoruichi - Goddess of Cats  
Orihime - formerly a human

Thanks for reading :)  
Feb/2011


	13. strand

Flashback order: 2, 9, **13**, 3, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10.  
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;

A/N: Thanks again for your wonderful support! So tremendously grateful am I that I present you with the longest chapter yet. I hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Revision notes: This story is undergoing some edits. The full unedited and uncensored version can be found at **the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

**Chapter 13: Strand**

* * *

_"That Shishigawara's staring again," grumbled Tatsuki with her eyes narrowed towards the young man in question._

_"Eugh," worried Mahana. "He better not come over here."_

_"No, he knows better," replied Tatsuki. "He knows the beating he'll get from me if he does. Besides, for some weird reason, he's scared of Sora."_

_"Why? Sora's the most harmless guy. I've had my eye on him for some time."_

_"You're still fighting over him with Michiru?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_"I don't think he's ever going to get married."_

_"Why do you say that? Did he say anything? Did Orihime?"_

_"What did I do?" asked the newcomer, an auburn-haired young woman who came in from the back of the bakery carrying a tray of freshly baked bread. She gently dispensed them in several baskets on the display shelves before doffing her apron and grabbing her lunch from the counter._

_"Um, nothing," laughed Mahana. "Ready? The others are already under the tree and we were just waiting for you."_

_"Yes."_

_"Let's go," said Tatsuki, and she led the others out into the village square and down to the shortcut they always took towards their favourite spot for lunch with the rest of their friends. Mahana ran on ahead of them, and Tatsuki looked back every now and again to make sure they weren't followed._

_It had been three days since the traveling market had come to town, and since then she had noticed that Orihime had become rather pensive. She curled her lips wryly before gently jabbing her best friend with an elbow. "Oi. What's wrong?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"You haven't been the same since the fair was here. What's eating you?"_

_"Silly Tatsuki," laughed she. "I'm not food."_

_"You know what I mean," Tatsuki said with a roll of her eyes. "You're still not hung up about what that fortune teller said, are you?"_

_"Well..."_

_"It's her craft. It's what she's supposed to say to earn money."_

_"I know, but still..."_

_"Still?"_

_"It does make me wonder. It's my future, after all."_

_Tatsuki unleashed an exasperated sigh. She would really rather not discuss that fiasco of a seer, but it seemed as though this was the only way to get her friend back to her usual disposition. "And what did she say about it?"_

_"Something about me loving someone and being loved back passionately."_

_"It's...not Shishigawara, is it?"_

_She shook her head, giggling. "She said it's not someone from the village."_

_Tatsuki was relieved to hear that. "Well, that's good. Did she say where this mysterious, faceless lover is coming from?"_

_"No."_

_"Well, for your sake, I hope he's hot, and that he'll treat you right. Or else he'll have me to answer to."_

_"Tatsuki."_

_"Knowing you, you'll probably fall for a guy with some weird hair colour and a funny expression."_

_"Tatsuki."_

_"And then you'll tell me every sordid detail of your married life, how wonderfully happy he makes you even as you pop out one kid after another because he just couldn't get enough of you."_

_"Tatsuki!"_

_The black-haired girl laughed as she wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulder, giving her a squeeze. "One of us has to live happily ever after, and it might as well be you."_

_The auburn-haired girl embraced her friend back. "All of us, not just me, Tatsuki. All of us will live happily ever after. You'll find someone, too."_

_She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Somehow I doubt it. I'd just as soon be with Keigo."_

* * *

"Have you come to collect?" said the Death God by way of greeting.

The God of Despair shook his head. "How do you like my wedding gift?"

The corners of Ichigo's mouth turned upwards but there was hardly any real mirth in it. "It's...not very traditional," he wryly replied.

"I can only give what is in my capacity. The feeling of despair instead of a vision of it seemed more fitting." Ulquiorra sprang down from the tree and landed in front of Ichigo. "I have thought deeply about your payment for the service I rendered to you." He reached out with his dark tail and hooked its end underneath the Death God's mask, pulling it up so he could see his expression. Ichigo, for his part, kept his face impassive and inscrutable, giving no telltale sign of his wariness over having the God of Despair so close to him. The tail glided down his throat and further parted the collar of his coat to reveal the gaping hole underneath.

"Your heart," continued Ulquiorra, tracing the outline of the cavity and pulling a sigh out of the Death God. "On the night of the full moon, for that whole day, lend me this heart of yours."

He allowed a puzzled frown to mar his brow as he began to transform, his hair shortening and his chest healing closed, hoping that the furred end of the tail would not get trapped within him. He blinked, the inky black receding from his eyes as gold faded to brown. "My heart." He could only repeat that word, endless possibilities of what it might entail fleeting through his mind.

"I want to know what it is about it that made you take the actions you have taken. See for myself how its beats correspond with what you feel for that human. I want to understand."

"And if that one day isn't sufficient enough to satisfy your curiosity?"

"You do not trust me." The pale head tilted to the side, looking for all the world as though he was teary-eyed with disappointment with the thick, sable black tracks over his cheeks. His tail, now behind him, swung back and forth along the sand.

Ichigo looked off to the side, his hands curling into fists as he fell back on the rock, the jagged surface jabbing his back as he stared at the starry sky above. "It's not that," denied he, watching the sky become overtaken by the God of Despair's dark wings as he planted his feet on the rock on either side of his hips.

"What do you fear? _Why_ do you fear?" Ulquiorra bent over him and placed a thin hand on the Death God's chest, right over his heart. "The beat here has become erratic."

In this position, he felt as though he couldn't escape. He swallowed, his Adam's apple nervously bobbing in his throat as despair surrounded him further. "What I will become," answered Ichigo. "It's different now. I have someone to protect, and in that form I will become a danger to what I'm protecting."

Ulquiorra blinked, and gave a slight nod of understanding. "That one day will be a deathless day," said he, his words meant to reassure except negated by his emotionless tone. "I have seen it with my eye. You will not have to bear your duties for that time, that's why I have chosen it. There will be no casualties for gods and humans alike."

The God of Death released a shuddering sigh, far from comforted. "No casualties," he echoed. "But the peril will still be present. And the full moon will be blood red."

"Yes," agreed the God of Despair as he unfurled his wings. "That is the price you will pay."

A laugh escaped him, rueful and mirthless. "You're right, Ulquiorra." Ichigo sat, forcing the God of Despair to stand back and dislodging the hold he had over his heart. He rose and turned his back, beginning the long walk back to his father's house. He had to laugh at finding himself even more beleaguered out in the desert when he sought escape from the disheartenment of his unanswered and unrequited confession. "For this one thing you want, it truly is costly."

* * *

Among the cushions, Orihime hugged her knees to her chest, wondering just how much longer the night would last. Around her, the divine sybarites pursued their merrymaking ways, the noise of their chatter and laughter resounding through the hall. The Scribe she met earlier, Shuuhei Hisagi, seemed to have overcome his shyness for he was feeding grapes to the Goddess of Love and Fertility as she lay with her head on his lap. A pang of envy shot through her at the display even as she felt embarrassed at being witness to it. She and the Death God weren't prone to being affectionate in public; maybe it came from being such strangers to each other. At the thought of him, regret stung her over his continued absence.

"May I intrude upon your thoughts?" asked the God of Invention and Knowledge, gesturing to the cushion beside her.

She blinked, eyes flying to him, and nodded, pulling a smile from the dark cloud that seemed to have encompassed her of late. She relaxed her posture, lowering her knees and pulling her legs under her.

"I'll come straight to the point, if you don't mind?"

Her eyes widened in wonderment and she began to worry her lower lip between her teeth. "Is something wrong?" asked Orihime.

"No, not at all. I didn't mean to cause you any alarm. I just wanted to examine you, if I may?"

"Oh. Is this about the baby?"

"Eh?" Startled, Kisuke's eyes roamed to the side as he thought quickly. "Er, yes. Definitely. The baby."

She stared at him dubiously, but decided to dismiss the suspicious behaviour as a mere godly quirk. "I'm still finding it hard to believe. Being in this condition already, I mean."

"It will sink in in due time, I'm sure."

"I mean, it's not that I wasn't expecting it. I figured that it will happen someday. Just not this soon."

"Just look at it as something fortuitous. A happy change."

"Hmm, I suppose. What else can I do?"

"Say 'ah,'" bade the God of Invention as he placed both hands on Orihime's cheeks.

Feeling somewhat baffled at the sudden turn of event, she stuck her tongue out and did as told, and the god turned her head this way and that. "What's this for?" she asked when he released her.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," answered the god with a smile. "Just wanted to check something." He took hold of her wrist and placed two fingers over her pulse-point. "Normal, that's good. Have you been feeling any pains at all in the last little while?"

She shook her head. "No, just my head feeling a bit heavy. Is that bad?"

"No, it's just a minor side-effect and it will go away pretty soon."

"Side-effect of learning you're pregnant?"

"Er, yes, something like that."

"Well, I've felt like I've been turning and turning and turning too fast. All topsy-turvy. I've been wishing I could fly away from here, but I have nowhere to go so it's pointless to do so."

"Well, you're one of us now, so maybe you'll get that wish someday. It's hard to tell with new gods what kind of powers will manifest in them. Actually, it's the same even with those who are born as gods. We never know what kind of power we have until we grow into it. If there's an empty niche, it just finds us."

"Find..." parroted Orihime, only half-listening to the God of Invention. "It's funny that I suddenly felt like I know where everyone is, but I can't find the Death God."

"Oh? Have you been trying all this time?"

She nodded.

"Well, let me tell you a trick. When you extend your consciousness, find the red string that feels like the person you're searching for. It might be faint, but it's there, and if you follow it, you will be led to the one you seek."

"You make it sound easy."

"With practice, it will be. You seem to have caught on earlier on how to do it without being taught. Like you're born for this."

"Oh," she nodded. Her eyes brightened as she recalled something, a giddy giggle erupting from her. "Do you still have some more of that green stuff you gave me earlier? It was only after I drank that that I began to feel this way. Maybe if I drink some more I'll be able find the Death God?"

"Unfortunately, I don't think it works that way. And I'm all out of it, sad to say."

"Oh, well. It was really delicious though."

"Really?" He unfurled his fan and peered demurely over it.

"Uh-huh. I really like it."

"I made it myself. Especially for you."

"For me, really? Thank you! It's too bad that you don't have anymore."

"Yes, but I think one is sufficient. It's a special brew that I don't think I'll be able to repeat for anyone else. It's made to cater to an individual's taste."

"You're so nice."

"Thank you. I hope your husband will feel the same way. Consider it my wedding gift."

* * *

Restlessness pervaded her after a while. The cool night air was nice and fresh against her skin, and Orihime found that it served to leave her feeling somewhat relieved from all that overwhelmed her that day. At the moment though, despite her tiredness, she couldn't bear to go back to the bedchamber. She knew that she would be even more beset by how empty it was; she would be hard pressed to find sleep there.

She wandered once again through the labyrinth garden, ambling through its multitudinous paths, learning how to make doorways with her mind when she found herself stranded against cul-de-sacs. She found herself once more in that clearing that had the one gate she had not been able to open, and resignedly lowered herself on the bench across from it with a sigh. She felt a strum against her heartstrings, as though the one she sought had tugged at it on the other side. With all the endless wishes she could make that the house was able to fulfill, she knew that this was one it wouldn't―and hadn't―been able to.

Should she stay here, she wondered, and stay guard for however long it took until the Death God returned? She could feel her resolve wavering as the seconds flocked away to minutes. Tomorrow would soon arrive, she thought. Would she find the strength once more then? This impasse and the helplessness and despair it brought were truly unbearable.

For lack of anything to do, she worried at the embroidery on her skirt, unraveling the thread with a fingernail. As petal after petal disentangled beneath the onslaught of her nail, she played a childhood game: _He's coming back. He's not coming. He's coming back. He's not coming._ She looked askance at the fallen flower when she got to the end, the frayed edges of threads looking as pitiful as she felt, feeling sorry for the rest of the embroidered flowers scattered on her voluminous skirt that might befall the same fate.

They were saved by the gate opening. Her breath stuck inside her lungs as she beheld the God of Death. Their eyes met, and for an eternity they were held as though spellbound in their respective spots. Hope and despair vied with longing in each, encapsulated with words unspoken.

He stepped through the threshold, but the spell was far from broken. She watched as he drew closer and dropped to his knees in front of her. They were back to the same pose they were in hours ago, that seemed as though an eternity passed since it took place due to the unending night of this realm. She hadn't found an answer then.

But now was different. She _felt_ different. All that was left was to show it.

Her eyes rose and met his gaze.

There was earnestness there in those brown orbs, and fading hope. To erase the uncertainty, she cupped his cheeks and lightly touched her lips to his. "Welcome back," she sighed against his lips, feeling his arms encircle her waist. As tingles ran down her spine at his touch, she drew forward once more to deepen the kiss, communicating warmth and welcome into each press and retreat of her lips against his.

He broke away from her with a deep exhale and rested his forehead against hers. With one embrace from her, despair ebbed from him. But one thing nagged at him even as elation began to fill him.

"You seem different," said Ichigo.

"I do," agreed Orihime, nodding assent at his assessment. They were so close her eyelashes brushed against his lids. "I've been thinking about so many things, been full of so many feelings. I feel changed by all of them."

"It feels like it's something else," he responded puzzledly, the furrow between his brows deepening.

She captured his lips to pull him from his errant thoughts, wanting him to concentrate on what she was about to say.

"I have an answer."

That caught his attention, and his eyes met hers, rapt and apprehensive.

She licked her lips. "I've decided to keep the child growing within me." Orihime watched him from under her lashes, assessing his reaction.

His eyes were tender as they roamed over her, gauging the sincerity of her words. He unclenched the fists that had kept a tight hold of the fabric of her dress and splayed his hands on her waist, his thumbs tracing circles on her belly. "You want to keep it?"

She nodded, a tremulous smile spreading across her lips. "It's ours," she said, her fingers tangling against the strands of orange spikes at his nape. "We made it together. Even if it started out because of the other gods, it's still a part of you and me."

She squealed in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck as he rose to his feet and twirled her in the air. Ichigo stopped, and she clung to him, a grin, though small, gentling his expression. Not for the first time, he felt his heart expand at the sight and feel of her, feeling as though he could burst. He wrapped his arms tightly around her back as she slid down his body. "Orihime," he whispered, voice but a breath against her cheek. "I love you."

Her hands stilled and tightened in his hair, eyes locked and unable to look away from his. For a very long second, her heart seemed to have fallen away from her, and then came back in a vengeful rhythm. She licked her suddenly dry lips and huskily mouthed her answer, her own voice having left her.

He released the breath he didn't know he held. His lips descended onto hers, wilful and soft, prying open her mouth with his tongue. She moaned as they tangled and stroked against each other, his head leaning to the side to deepen the kiss. Her spine arched as electricity seemed to reverberate against her skin, the feel of her breasts pressed tightly against his chest enhancing the passion that flared over her wherever they touched.

Her hands ran over his chest, his heart pounding hard, her lips gripping his in a kiss that left them both even more breathless. He released her lips, and the smile that matched hers was unweighted, unwilling to let his promise to the God of Despair intrude upon this moment of perfection.

This moment, he thought. Just let him savour this moment.

* * *

APPENDIX

Shishigawara - character from Bleach's Welcome to Our XCution arc that took place after the 17-month time skip  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Ulquiorra - God Despair and Visions  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Orihime - formerly a human

Thanks for reading :)  
Mar/2011; revised 2012


	14. account

Revision notes: The full unedited and uncensored version of this chapter can be found at **the-tower-room dot livejournal dot com** (no spaces and replace "dot" with period; there's also a link to it in my profile since I can't put a link here :/ ).

A/N: Ahahahaha haha... I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to disappear for a bit and not update. To be honest, I got burnt out of writing ― churning out thousands and thousands of words in a short period of time hadn't happened since my university days. And even though my brain was clamouring "write more! must continue!", the rest of me just wouldn't relent, and since March I was stuck with less than 2000 words that really didn't want to form cohesively together enough to be workable. Gomen ne *kowtows*  
It's kinda funny looking back to when I first started this fic, I figured it'd be short and only have 7 chapters at the most. And now it's double that estimated amount *insert Kenshin's ORO emoticon*  
Although I must say that I was pretty surprised at the direction this chapter went.

In any case, thanks to anyone who's still sticking around, for all your PM's and reviews and questions about the story. I am, as always, grateful for sharing your thoughts and support :)

In more exciting news, who else is ecstatic about the new Rurouni Kenshin anime that was announced? Who else raised their fist and screamed HELLS-to-the-YEAH for Orihime's badassery over the latest Bleach chapters? Who cried watching the ending scene to Final Fantasy X because it reminded them of the season 2 finale of Buffy when the main couple they're rooting for can't be together?

...

...

...

*ahem*

Flashback order: **14**, 2, 9, 13, 3, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 14: Account**

* * *

_And then he woke up._

_Sora scrunched his eyes from the pain, wincing at the feeling of new bruises on top of the not-quite-healed ones. A small, soft hand was gently smoothing his hair, and he would have smiled at being soothed in such a way were it not for the pain from his swollen cheeks. He settled instead for a sigh that indicated he was alright; it was better that he got the brunt of their father's fists―at least, he was old enough to take it and somewhat survive, having been their father's punching bag for most of his life―than have those land on his not quite three-years-old younger sister. Tenderly, he tested the rest of his limbs: no broken bones this time, and for that he was thankful._

_He reached up with a shaky hand and gently took hold of the small one over his head, tears springing up as her other hand covered his. A thousand times he prayed for the Death God to claim him, and in those thousand times he couldn't finish his prayer, knowing the kind of life that would be in store for his sister if he should perish._

_But this, this couldn't keep happening. He was close to breaking and their father would soon turn his eyes over to his sister, and he knew, as weak as he was now, he wouldn't be able to protect her from him. He had a little bit of money hidden away; he had been saving up for a long time, in order to free himself and Orihime from this life that they led, but he knew that they wouldn't be able to flee as far away as possible in the state he was in._

_Sora carefully turned his head to the side and gestured weakly at the book he had been reading to Orihime that had been thrown to the floor when their father barged in. The image of the Death God stared impassively from the page. He always wondered which of the other gods he'd angered to warrant them to grant him this kind of life. All he could seem to feel were the deep, dark claws of the God of Despair clenching relentlessly over him. And torn was his heart with the belief of the salvation and release that the God of Death could provide him if he ever had conviction enough to finish his prayer._

_But his sister anchored him to the world of the living. He couldn't give up yet. He had to take a gamble. They both deserve a better life than this. Safe somewhere outside of the city, out in the open air where they could breathe freely and not have to worry about where their father's drunken fists would land. He would need to be strong for his sister and himself. He_ had _to. _

* * *

Ichigo opened his eyes. Back in their chamber, they lay on their side facing each other. The scent of her hair wafted up to his nose, and he buried his face among the auburn tendrils as though to hide from the issue that was insistently pressing on his mind. He encased his arms tightly around her. _Seven days_, he thought. _Only a mere week until the full moon_. He knew that that day, when it came, would be the longest day of his life. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to extend their stay here, for at least, should something happen, Orihime would be well protected within the fortress of his father's house and surrounded by gods who knew how to wield their powers well.

She stirred in his arms, turning so that she lay on her back on the bed, fire-light from the hearth dancing along her skin. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, the tangle of her long hair wove over and under and around her arms and torso, like autumn on the snowy hills and fields of her body. His hand hovered, scant millimetres from her soft skin, a finger over her heart vibrating with its constant, even pulse.

She looked the same, but there was something about her that incessantly clawed at his mind, something suddenly different. He sensed it the night before when he opened the gate to his father's garden to find her waiting for him. It was new, a divine light that suddenly brightened her even more in his mind. As much as he would like to attribute it to her requited feelings for him, he knew that it wasn't the case at all. The difference he could feel in her was caused by something else.

He traced his finger down her chest, ensconced between her bountiful breasts, further down to the dip of her navel. His fingers spread over her belly, sensing the tiny grain that had been seeded there by their coupling. _For that one day_, he thought, _will you protect her in my place? _He lay his head on her stomach with a soft chuckle, feeling rueful at the thought as he closed his eyes. Currently, what she'd begun to house inside her body was nothing more than an idea, a potentiality, still simply a mass of dividing cells, insubstantial and inconsequential. Perhaps it was merely this that he was sensing as different about her.

Ichigo wondered how soon was too soon in broaching the subject of godhood. Kisuke did say that any time before Orihime gave birth would be a good time to have her drink the draught, and with the worry over the coming full moon he felt he really ought to run the idea by her. _Just in case_. He truly didn't know what was in store, but the heavy, foreboding feeling he had since he spoke with Ulquiorra had not abated. And it wasn't merely the usual residual feeling one got from meeting with the God of Despair.

With these restless thoughts still swiftly churning in his mind, he fell asleep.

* * *

The night ended, and took with it the God of Death.

Sunlight dappled through the curtains of their bedchamber, and Orihime stretched, her limbs spreading through the expanse of the bed amid the tangle of sheets. Although she felt a modicum of emptiness at finding herself alone, she knew that unlike the night before where despair hung so heavily upon her, Ichigo would return later at sunset. The worry over his absence wasn't acute, as she was filled with the knowledge that this morning was just as with all other mornings: he was off into the mortal world to fulfill his duties as the God of Death, and at sunset he would return to her.

With lightened heart, she rose from the bed and wandered over to the adjoining bath to wash up. Sighing over the long day ahead of her, she couldn't wait to see her husband again.

* * *

The room was spacious and quiet but for the chirping of the birds outside the open windows. There were only two occupants in the room, and both wished that they could be elsewhere but in each other's company.

She kept her hands in her lap, glanced at him from beneath her brow and looked away quickly. He sat just as rigidly in front of her, fist gripping firmly at the quill, avoiding eye contact at all cost.

Every time Orihime's eyes landed at the numbers tattooed on his left cheek, however briefly, she could feel herself colouring, her body temperature heating up at the reminder of what she'd tried with the Death God earlier in their bedchamber.

She could tell that the Scribe hadn't really wanted to continue their interview so soon either, especially with how their first encounter had turned out, and she couldn't blame him. She felt just as embarrassed. But their feelings upon the matter shouldn't get in the way of his job...right? She didn't want to get him in trouble.

She heard him clear his throat and take a breath as though to begin to speak, but choked on the words before he could utter them.

The silence stretched between them, and the birds outside chirped merrily in a mocking way.

"So. Um."

She looked up, met his eyes for an infinitesimal moment before parrying away again, their faces both reddening anew.

She bit her lip as flashes of the Death God's texture and taste invaded her memory, covering her face with her hands out of mortification and shaking her head vigorously to disperse them. Shuuhei made a sound of alarm at her display, almost forgetting his own ongoing embarrassment and made as if to rush over to check on her, before realizing who she was again and remembering. He crouched frozen, eyes wide.

"Mei-eeh shuddoodis acing ah-wei fumitchodda."

The low, mumbled words penetrated her hearing, and she retracted her hands from her face enough to stare at him puzzledly.

She could only reply just as intelligently. "Eh?"

"Maybe-we-should-do-this-facing-away-from-each-other?"

Odder still, she actually understood him and complied, turning so that she sat with her back towards him. She heard a shuffling behind her as he repositioned himself, a sigh (possibly of immense relief) and another clearing of the throat.

"So. Um. About you and the Death God..."

It was better this way, she found as her eyes wandered over the colourful expanse of the mosaic walls and the draperies hanging over the ceiling and windows. Conducting a non-face-to-face interview with Shuuhei was definitely easier. She was surprised at the number of questions they managed to get through: what had her life been like prior to becoming the Bride of the Death God? What caused her village to offer her? What caused the plague (to which she had no answer, only speculations made from what the Snow Goddess had insinuated, and to which Shuuhei made a note to consult with said goddess at a later time about the matter)? Had she had any past lovers? What had her friends been like? Her family? How had she felt when she learned she was the sacrifice? What was she expecting to find at the house of the Death God? Had she known that the Death God was with someone else before their marriage? And so on.

And with all these questions, more in a similar vein arose in her mind. What did cause the plague? Ichigo may look human, and sometimes innocent, act kind and gentle towards her but he was still a god, and gods were easily angered. He hadn't shown her that side of him yet, but to other gods, then definitely yes. What was to become of her, a mere mortal, in the face of the Death God's wrath?

At the sobering thought, she grew silent, and laid a hand on her still-flat belly. The scratching of his quill upon the scroll continued as Shuuhei wrote her responses.

Anger...the driving force behind the punishments the gods mete out upon her kind. The question of "why" was something she tried to bury inside, for the asking of it might shatter whatever newly discovered love there was between her and Ichigo. And yet, could she really live with not knowing the answer to that question? It would be another loss to add to the many losses she'd had.

Rukia had mentioned that plagues usually only happened when Ichigo got in a certain mood, namely when his relationship with a lover ends. However, another way that plagues could commence was if another god asked him of it as a favour, which very rarely happened.

Orihime wondered at this mysterious past lover, and contemplated the wisdom of asking the Scribe of what he knew. It wouldn't be wise at all. It would be best for her to remember her place in the hierarchy of gods and mortals. At the lower end of that spectrum, she must be discreet and she mustn't question. The business of the gods was theirs and theirs alone, and as a mortal, all she could do was accept it, regardless of the fact that she was the bride of one. What was past was past and better left as such.

But she found that she couldn't hold the surge of jealousy she felt at the thought.

"What was this...person...like?"

The sound of the quill ceased.

"Hmm?"

"This lover?"

Seconds ticked by, and she closed her eyes, wishing she could swallow the words back.

When Shuuhei finally spoke, his voice was quiet, guarded, as though he barely opened his mouth to utter his answer.

"A goddess."

His writing resumed, as though in an effort to drown out his next words.

"Senna, the Goddess of Autumn."

There was neither fear nor reverence in his tone, but the underlying cautiousness piqued her curiosity. She mentally scrambled over the pages of her brother's book for the image of the goddess in question. Her memory was hazy but she could make out a slim figure with purple hair and wide, orange eyes, with autumn leaves swirling at her feet.

Another memory surfaced, of the village, a clear vision of a time of celebration, just before the plague, of words spoken by one villager in an offhand manner, lacking foresight at the consequence of saying them, and her eyes opened wide with realization.

_Was that it?_ she wondered worriedly. _Was that the reason...?_

Her friends...her brother...the whole village suffered... _Just for that?_

She clutched at her chest, finding it hard to breathe, but grateful that in this silent, private room, there was only her and the Scribe, and with their backs facing each other he couldn't see her, couldn't witness her grief.

At last, she thought. This was the wrath of the Death God. His vengeance for the Goddess of Autumn.

―_"You will go beyond"―_

She silently scoffed at those remembered words that rose to the surface of her mind, feeling the hope and naivete of the young, foolish girl she had been, shattering.

―_"...and be loved"―_

She hugged her knees to her chest in an effort to quell her growing despair, finally accepting those words for the lies Tatsuki always claimed them to be. Here, within the house of a god, there was nowhere for her to hide. Here, she felt all the more small, lower than an ant, and much humbled. Lost and ever more alone.

In the end, she was as she always had been: a pawn in the game of gods.

She felt as though she had finally woken up.

* * *

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Orihime - formerly a human  
Hisagi - a Scribe (servant to the gods among whose duties include the recording of the gods' lives to distribute as stories to humans)  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn (filler character from Bleach: Memories of Nobody movie)

Thanks for reading :)  
May/2011; revised 2012


	15. hold

A/N: Wow! Thank you very much for the very awesome welcome you've given :DDD I am extremely grateful for your understanding. As a token of appreciation, for those wondering about a certain couple of characters, finally figured out just where they are in this story ^^

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 3, **15**, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 15: Hold**

* * *

_As Keigo's body was laid to the ground, she tightly held Tatsuki's hand._

_Her friend stared straight ahead, unseeing, devoid of any emotion, while around them rang the sounds of lamentation._

_"Stupid," mumbled the black-haired girl with a shake of her head. Orihime was the only one who knew her long enough to see that she wasn't as unaffected as she made herself to be. The auburn-haired had many a small glimpse that her friend might have regarded Keigo as something other than a nuisance, but she knew that it was something that Tatsuki would never admit to anyone, not even to herself._

_Orihime squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the tears out, blinding herself to the sight of her friend slowly but surely being shoveled under the cemetery dirt. It wasn't long ago that the village was celebrating. The laughter and merriment seemed to have been suddenly whisked away, and all she could do was clutch Tatsuki's hand, afraid of what would happen if she let go._

_Keigo had succumbed to a sudden sickness. One moment, he was out in the fields going about his daily duties, meeting them at their tree for lunch as usual. The next moment, he was affixed to his bed, body wracked with pain and unable to move, delirious and sweating profusely. The village doctor had not been able to be of much help, and it wasn't too long after that he was called away as another villager suffered from the same ailment._

_A hush had come over the village then. The remaining decorations in the square lay forgotten. Like a heavy veil, dread descended over the thought that Keigo's death was only the beginning to something far worse coming their way._

_The two of them stayed as the small crowd dispersed. For a long time they stood alone, and Tatsuki's hand clenched around hers in a painful grip, the black-haired girl's lips uncustomarily trembling, her eyes glassy and bright._

_"I hate you, Keigo," grounded Tatsuki out through gritted teeth, voice breaking as a lone tear fell. She angrily swiped at her cheek with her other hand. "And that's all the tears you're ever going to get. Stupid." Her shoulders shook and she let go of Orihime's hand to cover her face as despite herself the tears persisted in pouring out of her._

_The auburn-haired girl wrapped her in her arms; this was the first and only time she had ever seen her longtime friend break down. Only now did it begin to sink in what it felt like to lose someone._

_And she mourned: for the loss of a much too short life, and for Tatsuki's regret for something that could have been that now could never be._

* * *

Lunch saw them still in the same room, although Orihime found that she didn't have much of an appetite. Face to face now, she watched the Scribe eat with much gusto, every now and then pausing to jot something down on the scroll beside him.

"I hear that more congratulations are in order," offered Shuuhei as he finished swallowing and gave her a warm, genuine smile.

Orihime started. "Eh?"

"You're expectant, I heard. And that you're due to ascend into godhood."

She chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her head with one hand and tightly gripping her cup with the other, worriedly gnawing at her lower lip. "So they say."

"Pretty soon, I'm sure you'll be receiving an invitation from the Sun God."

That gave her pause, and puzzled, tilted her head to the side, her brows raised. _Sun God? Had there ever been one?_ She was pretty sure there hadn't, but she also knew there were a great number of various deities, even more than what had been listed in her brother's book. It was only now that it occurred to her that it would only make sense to have one if there was a Moon God.

"The Sun God?" repeated she.

Shuuhei nodded. "The Spirit King, the only deity that the gods bow down to. Only newly made gods and the children of gods get invited by him. He hardly ever leaves the heavens. The Death God's sisters, Karin and Yuzu, are with him now."

Orihime lowered her cup. It seemed the more she heard about the Death God, the more it emphasized just how little she knew about him and his world. "I-I didn't know he had any sisters," stammered she. "Neither he nor the Goddess of Snow ever mentioned them."

"Don't worry about it," dismissed the Scribe with a wave of a hand. "They've been up there for a very long time that it's no wonder the other gods have forgotten about them. Even their father."

Her frown deepened, raising the cup once more to take a sip. He made it sound as though it was so easy and seemed to be a common occurrence for the gods to forget even the members of their own family. She'd known of their penchant for cruelty to mortals, as the stinging feeling of betrayal in her heart over what she'd learned of the God of Death and the Goddess of Autumn could attest...but toward their own family? Would that be what was eventually in store for her? Or something far worse?

_"Orihime, I love you."_

She closed her eyes tightly and willed herself to push it from her mind. Now was not the time for such a thought. She hurriedly sifted through the surface of her mind for anything that would take her away from it. "How long?" burst she out, hoping that her own curiosity would overtake her breaking heart.

Shuuhei thought for a moment. "I believe they've gone beyond soon after the Death God became the Moon God."

She almost choked on her drink, the pursuit of the subject matter effectively distracting her from her issues. "But that's―"

"Yes, isn't it?" He chuckled. "They've been up there for almost as long as the moon had been up in the sky." His eyes took on a faraway look. "Before I ever became a Scribe, I've read in a tale that they wanted to be close to the Death God's heart; they wanted to protect it up there. You may have noticed a pair of stars that are always orbiting close to the moon? That's them."

She shook her head, almost smiling with the wonderment that filled her despite herself, the nostalgic feeling of novelty at being brought into the fascinating world of the gods overtaking her. "I've never heard of this tale," admitted she.

"Somehow, it's not something that is often told. And I'm not quite sure why it's so."

"But I thought the stars were the Night God's cherry blossoms?"

He shook his head. "Not all of them. There are special cases. The sun, for example. And of course, the sisters Yuzu and Karin."

She took a sip, digesting this new information. Her eyes lit up as she remembered something. "I heard that the sun here isn't the sun of the mortal world."

"Where did you hear that?"

"The Goddess of Love and Fertility told me."

She watched as he fought down a blush at the mention of Rangiku, averting his gaze to the food before him and quickly stuffed something into his mouth. After swallowing, he cleared his throat. "That's true and false."

"Eh?"

"It is true that in the world below, the sun is nothing more than a giant ball of gas that happens to be the greatest indicator of the progression of time during the day. Here, the gods have more control over the passage of time, hence the reason why the Night God can make the night last longer than it usually would have occurred in the world of mortals. The reason for this is because the Spirit King is indifferent to the affairs of gods and mortals alike and doesn't mind the lack of worship at all. Even though he is the ruler of the gods, as long as order is kept, he leaves the gods to their own machinations. He prefers for them to sort out their own problems and will only intervene to restore order if it becomes a big enough conflict. So far, the gods' squabbles and meddling haven't been enough to warrant his attention."

"I see." A short silence ensued as they both continued their meal. As she nibbled on a piece of potato, she wondered out loud, "But what about the God of Winter?"

Shuuhei looked up. "What about him?"

"You said that the children of gods are all invited to be with the Spirit King. How come the God of Winter isn't with him now?"

He choked and sputtered, tapping his chest as he reached for his cup. After gulping down his drink, he stammered, "Please, don't ever let the God of Winter hear you say that. He takes great issues over being called a child."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"You didn't know, it's alright," he mollified with a nervous smile, looking around and behind to make sure the god in question hadn't suddenly appeared to deal punishment upon them. "The God of Winter...he felt that he was ready to take on his godly powers and responsibilities. And he's a lot older than he looks; he has always been the Winter God."

She couldn't help the surprise she felt, opting to plop another potato in her mouth as she tried to keep her thoughts in order. "It seems strange."

"What does?"

"Everything." She gestured with a wave of her arms. Orihime opened her mouth to explain, but found herself overwhelmed by all that she had learned.

"Yeah." The Scribe gave a small laugh and went back to eating.

She thought of the Death God's sisters, wondered how they were faring being so far away from their family. "The God of Life...why didn't he...?"

He looked up, picking up on what she was trying to question. "Ask for them back?"

She nodded.

"I think it's partly because no one dares to deny or refuse the Spirit King―it's just not done. And there are protocols that even gods have to follow. And also, I think it's because the sisters prefer being up there."

"So they're not being held against their will?"

"Not at all. Once in a while they come down to visit. Water is what connects all the worlds. It's what brought you to the Lunar Palace, yes?"

Seeing her questioning gaze, he clarified, "Weren't you brought in in a boat?"

She gave a single nod in reply.

"Rivers, lakes, and oceans are the pathways between the mortal world and the dimension of the gods, but only when such a passage is permitted. A human going into the water does not automatically take them here. Between the heavens―the dimension of the Spirit King―and the realm of gods, however, rain acts as the bridge. The only thing is is that it actually seldom rains here. So you can say that it has been a very long time indeed since the God of Life and the God of Death have seen either Karin and Yuzu, and it's understandable that they could have been forgotten."

"Have you ever been there?"

"To the domain of the Spirit King? No. That's one god who never grants any interviews. But maybe Renji can give you some information. He was invited to sojourn there soon after his marriage to the Goddess of Snow and his ascension to godhood."

Orihime lowered her head and peered at her reflection on the surface of her drink. "Maybe," she mumbled, mood shifting again at the sudden pang of envy striking low inside her at their mention. She knew she was a fool for having had any aspirations that her own marriage could become one out of love, like with Rukia and Renji. She knew that marriages seldom had anything to do with love, at that. And for one who was a sacrifice, it was too grand a dream to have.

All she could do was to resign herself once more to her fate, and wait for the end to come.

* * *

If there was anything that Orihime was grateful for at that very moment, it was the fact that whatever drink the God of Knowledge and Invention had given her the night before, she was still under its effects.

After the interview with the Scribe, she'd wanted nothing more than to be by herself, safe and secluded somewhere where she wouldn't run into any of the other guests of the God of Life's house. Her bedchamber was the furthest place she'd wanted to be. The feeling of being able to sense other gods in the vicinity was a great help, enabling her to avoid any areas where they were convened. And the house complied to her wish, leading her to the quietest place within its walls: the library.

The whole room was filled with shelves and cases of scrolls and books. No doubt, she thought, the product of the Scribes detailing the lives of the gods. She wandered through the aisles, idly running her hand across the books' spines as she passed them, trying with all her might to prevent herself from thinking about her earlier realization.

But it was a losing battle, and she felt exhausted, overwrought. Just when she thought she'd finally left that place of uncertainty, of hanging between life and death, and found a place of belonging...it was all too good to last. She'd almost forgotten that she was the sacrifice, and being a sacrifice entailed that she was at the mercy of the deity she had been offered to.

And what now? Why wasn't she yet presented to the Goddess of Autumn? What was the Death God waiting for? What were they planning to do to her?

And most cruel of all, why the need to pretend to have feelings for her?

The tears she had been fighting finally freely flowed, unencumbered by any witnesses. She leaned against a shelf and slid to the floor, surrendering to the silent tears. Along with the stinging feeling of betrayal, she berated herself for being weak and crying. There she remained until she had no more tears to shed, and all she was left with was emptiness.

_Foolish_, she thought, leaning back against a bookcase and furiously wiping at her cheeks. She had been so foolish. She recalled the stories she'd heard and read of the gods' games; there were certain rules to it, she knew. The mortal victims were subjected to the powers that were particular to the god that was angered. The Goddess of Autumn would have done something to the village's fall crop, had anyone still been alive when that season came. But since she was the lover of the God of Death, all she needed to do was to ask him for his favour, hence the plague.

As for herself...Orihime reckoned she deserved to be the lamb brought to slaughter, despite the fact that every single villager would probably be dead by now. So, their attempt to make an offering to appease the gods had been in vain. Dread filled her, but surely, that was the only outcome to this? Unable to leave the gods' realm, she had no way of knowing for sure that any villagers had managed to survive that plague, and her own time was numbered. Without a doubt, the God of Death was now in Karakura, collecting for the Goddess of Autumn.

A sigh broke from her, eyes transfixed at the fall of shadows from the wide opened windows, wishing with all her might for the sun not to set, praying to the newly discovered Sun God though she knew he would never answer. It was strange to think that that morning she couldn't wait to see the Death God again, and now that sentiment had tremendously changed. And she knew she couldn't hide forever. Who would dare keep him from his prey?

If Tatsuki were alive, she would without a doubt be swinging her fists against the situation Orihime found herself in.

* * *

The image faded, and Senna put her mirror face-down as Grimmjow walked into the room. With a coy smile, she sidled up to him, emphasizing the sway of her hips with each step, hoping to sway him to her bidding.

"My love," whispered she, trailing her fingers up his chest and beckoning him to meet her welcoming lips. For his part, he readily devoured what she offered, pulling her flush against his body, feeling the heat of desire readying to consume him.

Pulling away for air, she smiled at his transfixed gaze awash with growing hunger. She slowly laved her lower lip with her tongue, which he'd swiftly reached out to capture back into his mouth. His hands wandered down her back, cupping her buttocks and lifting her so she could wrap her legs around his waist, but she stilled, blocking his access to her lips with a hand over his mouth.

"Will you take me―"

"Yes!" interrupted he with a growl and a grin, resuming to back her into a nearby surface to continue their passionate embrace.

But she would not be swayed. "―to see the _other_ God of Knowledge?"

"Ye―what?" He dropped her so suddenly, his ardour instantly depleted. A loud growl reverberated at the back of his throat. "What the hell for?"

She winced, her back smarting from the fall, and she schooled her features into an expression of gentle imploration from her place on the floor. "I need him to make something for me."

"Tch." The God of Destruction shook his head, his nostrils flaring with distaste and slowly banked anger, pacing restlessly back and forth. But despite himself, asked, "What?"

"A cage."

He stopped, turning to face her, his displeasure immediately melting into a wide, feline smile as he grabbed her back up to him, capturing her lips in an intense and thrilling kiss.

He paused long enough to let her come up for air. "You mean...?"

"Yes, _that_," responded the Goddess of Autumn with a mirroring grin, and he began to transform into a sleek, white panther, beckoning her to climb to his back.

"Let's go."

* * *

APPENDIX

Orihime - formerly a human  
Hisagi - a Scribe (servant to the gods among whose duties include the recording of the gods' lives to distribute as stories to humans)  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World  
Yuzu and Karin - Ichigo's sisters; twin stars that orbit the moon in the sky  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn  
Grimmjow - God of Destruction  
Mystery Man (3) - the _other_ God of Knowledge

Thanks for reading :)  
June/2011


	16. yield

A/N: So no one guessed that the cage is for one of Grimmjow and Senna's kinky games? XD

Thanks to everyone for still sticking to this fic!

Sorry for the long delay. I felt that I needed time to better be able to execute the story plan for this fic and to work out a lot of things regarding the construction and direction. I'm not really sure if I'm gonna succeed though, but I hope you'll enjoy this chapter ^^

Also, changed a little something in chapter 5. It's been bugging me this whole while and I felt it added to the confusion about Ichigo's moon forms, so decided to entirely drop that part out.

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, **16**.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 16: Yield**

* * *

_Gradually, he became aware of the sound of the dying rain, and little by little felt the cold pitter-patter of its ebbing drops upon his numbed skin. He blinked against the onslaught on his eyes but he had to see what the sudden ineffable knowledge in his mind and the uncompromising, sinking feeling in his chest told him to be true: that the gaping space in the sky had now been filled with a new bright star that seemed to shine sadly through the rain._

_His eyes stung, and he let its salt mingle with the torrent, hopeless with the deep-seated, desperate knowledge of everything that he had lost._

* * *

She sat curled upon a comfortable chair in the library, books and scrolls scattered around her. Orihime had cooped herself up in there and had not seen anyone at all since her interview with the Scribe. She had wished with all her might not to be found, imagining a shield, golden and triangular, between her and the rest of the guests of the house, and strangely she felt that it seemed to have worked. She could almost feel its warm glow surrounding her, and had to shake her head at herself for having such an imagination. It must be the house, she thought, feeling abashed at it being so accommodating to her wish, but she truly hadn't wanted to see anyone.

She blew her nose into a handkerchief, an open book falling on her lap. _So that's what happened to the God of Foxes and Snakes_, she thought with a sniff. She could still picture the image of the Goddess of Love and Fertility with her tearful face bending over the Fox God, could so clearly hear her voice calling for him even as the Butterfly Man felled him.

She felt unsettled at the thought that even gods died and yet the world carried on much like what happened with a normal human being. Snakes and foxes lived on even though now there didn't seem to be any gods presiding over them. And what did they need a god for, truly? Could they pray?

Her brother only had the one book and she could recall with absolute certainty that the story she had just read about the death of a god had not been chronicled there. Such a subject matter didn't seem to be something that they would so readily spread around, especially to mortals. What exactly happened to a soul when facing death?

And what about the God of Death? What would happen should he perish? What would happen to the moon?

The thought made her look out of the library window. The sky was cast with the colours of the fall, the vibrant reds and oranges making way for dusky blue. A chill slithered down her spine as she watched the sky darken, the little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end, and fear unlike any she had known began to take root in her heart.

Awaiting doom was unbearable. Now that she had gained knowledge of the Death God's plan for her, what _could_ she do? And what about her newly discovered pregnancy? What manner of cruelty was in store for her and the unborn child?

She could flee, run away, but she knew that with him possessing such power, there was nowhere for her to go where he wouldn't reach her.

Her heart hurt. She was tired of feeling helpless, tired of being ignorant, but fear was out of her control. Since her time in this world was soon to expire, surely it wouldn't hurt to know what had happened to Karakura after she had been given to the Death God as a sacrifice? If all the villagers had perished, the thought that she would join them soon should bring her a quantum of solace.

There was a sudden heavy pressure in the air that had Orihime's heart pounding swiftly within her, her legs shaky even as she forced herself to stand, the book dropping to the floor. Inside her mind, she wished for the imaginary barrier to strengthen between her and what ever brought on this tumultuous fear. Her inner voice, the one vying for survival, urged her not to look behind her for she didn't know what she would face, what would await her, but she couldn't help her body from moving on its own volition toward the doors. She must get away from this power that threatened to overwhelm her, but the one method of escaping led her straight to it.

The spiritual pressure…there was something familiar about it, and yet different.

_What is this? What is here?_

_Death?_

Was the reckoning for what happened at the village finally about to descend upon her? She swallowed, wrung her fingers together. This was it. She could almost feel her imaginary shield beginning to crack and break, and she frowned at that. Perhaps her fear heightened her wish to be protected and hidden that the house complied to it, but even a god's house had limited power and could not fight against a god itself, especially one whose intent to kill was too strong.

Sweat dripped down her forehead as the doors began to open, and death greeted her.

* * *

_I'll do it tonight,_ Ichigo decided.

Time was of the essence and there was hardly any to waste. He patted the front of his robes, and sighed with relief that the vial was still safely ensconced within its folds.

Walking through the halls of his father's house, he warily prepared himself against any movements from the mosaic tiles. All he wanted was to find Orihime, and he really, absolutely could not be bothered to be waylaid by his father or any of the other gods.

His features softened as he finally made it to his chamber door and couldn't help the excited beat of his heart, nor could he stop the grin that began to stretch upon his lips. Opening the door, he was disheartened and more than a little disappointed to find the chamber empty. He pulled the mask that had been perched atop his head over his face to hide his expression, and extended his mind to search for the strand of spiritual pressure that belonged to Orihime. Puzzled, his grip on the doorknob tightened when he couldn't feel a trace of her. This had better not be the other gods' idea of a joke, or worse still, one of the trickeries of Isshin's house—one of the reasons that had made him appreciative and relieved to leave this place when he came into his power when he was younger.

At the continuous feeling of the empty void of her presence, panic and anger started to war within him. It fiercely spread through his being, overcoming his ability to reason as the only thing that filled his mind was the knowledge that she was gone. A haze began to surround his mind and all colour receded from him, leaving him in his white form. Slamming the door closed, he prowled down the corridor, exuding murderous aura that had the other guests of the house scrambling to escape his ominous presence. The house itself seemed to take on a life of its own with a severe need to comply to his simple wishes, and blasted open a set of double doors for him that led to one of the banquet halls, heralding his entrance.

A sudden, heavy hush fell upon the room, and all its occupants turned as one, alarmed at the sight of the white form of the Death God.

They froze in their spots, hardly moving, unwilling to confront or greet the figure that joined them.

His voice, when he finally spoke, resounded with a manic echo, its low and guttural tone making it seem as though he had difficulty reining in his power to instantaneously end life.

"Where is she?"

There was no doubt in anyone's mind whom he referred, and like a wave, a pathway opened between him and a dark-haired Scribe, who stood beside the Goddess of Love and Fertility.

The click of his clawed feet upon the tile floor seemed to echo and emphasize the reigning silence he commanded. The God of Death watched the Scribe attempt to swallow, his arm held by Rangiku's vice-like grip, as though that would prevent Death from claiming him.

Cold, golden irises against a backdrop of inky black peered through the mask.

"Why you?" he grounded out in that same slurred growl as though he had become too animalistic for the civility of proper speech. "What were you doing with her?"

"A-an interview, my lord," came the breathless answer.

The Death God tilted his head forward, the long, sharp horns lowering so that the Scribe's neck lay between them. A slight movement from him, a sudden flicker—that was all that was required for that head to roll should he receive an unacceptable answer.

"Interview," he repeated.

"F-for the story of your marriage, my lord."

A long gnarl rumbled low in his throat, and he watched with cruel detachment as the Scribe's lips trembled, seeing in his periphery the Goddess of Love and Fertility holding back her tears. This would mark the second time he'd had to claim something of hers, although the first death had not been caused by him.

Before he could move, a sudden weight pressed upon his shoulder and horns.

"Not in my house," commanded Isshin, one hand grasping the Death God's shoulder while the other gripped the handle of his sword, the flat of the blade pushing his horns up from their hold on the Scribe.

"Control yourself, son."

The God of Death relented, allowing his father to raise his head, watching the Goddess and the Scribe back away from them.

Isshin kept his blade against his horns for caution. Breaking either one of them would temporarily temper his power and restrain his agitated state.

"What's wrong?" asked his father gently.

For several beats he kept silent, reining in his rage enough to be able to form words. The answer, when it came, was anguished. "I can't feel her."

The elder god's brows furrowed. He gazed off to the side for a moment as he extended his mind to search within his domain. Encountering a curious barrier in one part of his house, it was with all his might that he dared not meet the eyes of the God of Invention and Knowledge. His son before them was not the one that they could easily disregard and rile. What stood now was simply and ineffably the God of Death, his son having yielded control to his power.

"She's in the library," said Isshin in that same careful tone. Gesturing with his head, his blade still secured upon the horns, he led the Death God from the room and out into the hallway, rearranging the walls so that the doors that stood adjacent to the banquet room were the library's.

He too could not feel the presence of the bride of the Death God, and were the house not an extension of himself, he would not have been able to sense the barrier that encompassed the library. Isshin had an inkling as to the cause of it, for no human could have been able to accomplish such a thing. And seeing his son descend to such a state once more reminded him of the reason why Ichigo had shunned the company of the other gods soon after he came into his power, and why the other gods themselves had been relieved to be relieved of Ichigo's presence.

"Turn back, son," implored Isshin. "See? She's there, just on the other side of those doors. She's been there the whole time. So turn back. I trust you."

"Let me see her."

Isshin sighed, lowering his blade. "I trust you," he repeated, removing his hand from his son's shoulder and backing slowly away, mentally eyeing the shield over the library and with a flick of his power, caused it to crumble. As it began to pulverize, the doors slowly opened.

* * *

The creaking of the entrance set her teeth on edge despite the trembling of her jaws. _This is it_, Orihime thought, her eyes roving the figure that met her. _Of course, it would be this form. _As the God of Death began to move, every click of the claws of his feet on the tiled floor seemed to her like a grain of sand falling through the hourglass of her life, counting down.

_Make it quick_, she thought as he came ever closer, closing her eyes as she waited for the end. She gasped as she felt herself being wrapped up in his arms, could barely breathe at the tightness of his embrace, his long hair curtaining her.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, and she opened her eyes in surprise, seeing just in time the white strands over her brightening to orange.

Must he play with her so?

"I couldn't feel you anywhere. I lost myself. A-and I scared everyone...again."

The despair in his voice melted the fear in her heart, and he seemed to her to be nothing more than simply a man, with his own fears and weaknesses. Despite herself, her arms raised and encompassed him in her embrace, running her hands in circles upon his back.

"Shh," she intoned gently. She didn't know anymore what to believe; one touch from him, the sound of his voice – these were enough to unmake her.

The Death God held her tighter against his chest, and she couldn't help but feel against her cheek the gaping hole where his heart ought to be. Despite its emptiness, she could still hear the telltale throbbing of its beat, the fast and furious rhythm winding down to a gentle tattoo.

A hand against her cheek lifted her head, and she stared up at the eyes that peered at her from beneath the mask. There was worry there, and agony, and apprehension at what he found in her gaze.

"Orihime?" asked he in an anxious tone, lifting up the hand that held her cheek to remove his mask.

_It wouldn't hurt to know, surely?_ She just couldn't let it eat her up inside like this, and if he really loved her like he claimed, surely he would grant her an answer.

She licked her dry lips, and began, "I want to know..."

His brows raised and he tilted his head, waiting for her to continue.

_Everything. You. The Goddess of Autumn. My village._

Orihime opened her mouth. All the words wanted to escape at once but her voice failed to deliver them.

_Where do I begin?_

She pushed against his chest, freeing herself from him, and turned away. She felt a slight pull at her head as he took hold of the ends of her hair, letting them trickle through his fingers.

Away from his gaze, she felt her resolve strengthen. "Karakura," she breathed. "Is it—?"

"Hmm?"

She sighed. Not facing him, she couldn't read his expression, couldn't tell if he was angry at the mention of the place. But she'd already begun on this path, she couldn't—shouldn't—turn back. _Whatever will come, will come._

Swallowing, she took a hold of her arms and steeled herself. "Are there still...people left...in Karakura?"

Silence and stillness were her answers, suffusing the room with an unquenchable heaviness. Dread grew within her, and she closed her eyes in an effort to hinder the oncoming tears.

Letting out a small yelp as he grabbed hold of her shoulders, she complied at his silent command and turned. She was afraid to look at him, but his hand upon her chin forced her to raise her head and all she could do was keep her eyes downcast.

The Death God, in turn, lowered his head to peer up at her. His ever furrowed brows were present, and in spite of them, his expression conveyed his puzzlement.

"What kind of a question is that? Of course, there's still people in Karakura."

Her eyes rounded in surprise and unencumbered joy, and she felt as though her heart had fallen away from her. Orihime couldn't help the sudden giddiness she felt, nor could she stop herself from jumping into his arms in tearful laughter. And he, in turn, couldn't help but feel dumbfounded at her shifting behaviour.

"I'm glad," she whispered.

"Why would you think there wouldn't be people left in Karakura?" asked Ichigo.

Her laughter subsided and her arms lowered, but he wouldn't let her get away so easily.

"I was just worried..."

"Worried?"

And all at once, the realization came to him: she saw him as a fickle god, just like how all the other mortals saw all the other gods. That he himself was into the game, that despite the sacrifice made by them, he could easily disregard it and continue on with his punishment.

Ichigo couldn't dissever himself from the sadness that overcame him, that despite his efforts, he couldn't bridge the gap that seemed to ever be present between them.

But with him was the one thing that could change that.

First, though, he felt the need to give her some reassurance. "The moment you came to me was the moment the plague was lifted from your village. There was never any need for you to worry. Karakura has been safe for a while now."

Squeezing her shoulders gently, he continued, "You were enough. You're all I need and want. Never doubt my love for you."

He reached into his robes for the vial. "Orihime, I have something for you."

Wonderingly, she gazed up at him, noticing the tightly fisted hand he held out.

"This is a gift from the gods. What you're entitled to upon your marriage to me. I hope you'll accept this." Taking her hand, he placed the vial upon her palm. "Drink this, and you'll become one of us."

She stared at the familiar green liquid inside the small container, and felt as though her stomach dropped at the implication of what this entailed. _No, it couldn't be..._

But—?

Maybe it just looked like the drink that the God of Invention and Knowledge gave her. It was just a coincidence. She had, after all, been craving the same drink since then, and it didn't really mean anything that that and this seemed to have the same colour.

—_"...you'll become one of us."_—

If that was true, then, since that night, she had already been one of them.

Orihime felt faint, and the world became a blur as the floor rushed up to meet her.

* * *

APPENDIX

Gin - God of Foxes and Snakes (deceased)  
Aizen - a Butterfly Man (evolved form of the black butterflies that gods use to send messages to each other); was executed by the Death God by order of the Spirit King for killing a god  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World  
Hisagi - a Scribe (servant to the gods among whose duties include the recording of the gods' lives to distribute as stories to humans)  
Isshin - God of Life  
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god

Thanks for reading :)  
Aug/2011


	17. unbound

A/N: WOW O_O I am staggered by the immense generosity and support that you wonderful, wonderful readers have given this story. In all the years I've been sporadically writing fanfics, I never imagined any story I write would reach reviews in the hundreds, and to see this fic reach 500...? WOW. AFJJFODSFUDSVJNKSDHFSJIJFS!

Thank you, thank you very much from the bottom of my heart, and I hope, as always, for your continued enjoyment of this story ^_^

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, **17**, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 17: Unbound**

* * *

_She walked with her brother towards Karakura's village square, skipping and clapping with delight at the decorations that graced the place. Today was their annual celebration of the end of spring and the beginning of summer, and every villager have turned up in a wonderful array of colours._

_Laughter and merriment resounded; everyone wore wreathes of berries and flowers. Mead and wine, fruits and meat and oats and wheat were distributed and shared. Young men chased women for dalliances upon haystacks or darkened corners._

_As the moon rose in the sky, they lit a huge bonfire, and music filled the air. Drums, fiddles, and flutes played song after song. Hand in hand with her friends, she danced, feeling joyful and tireless. She had never felt as glad and content as that moment, thankful that her brother brought them to live in this peaceful and beautiful place, away from the confining city of her and her brother's abused childhood. In a moment of rest, she saw Sora among the other young men with a tankard in his hand, happy to find him unstressed and carefree, with laugh lines gracing his face instead of those of sorrow and pain. If there was a god of freedom, she would have prayed, but she consoled herself to pray to any god of happiness to have brought them this day._

_Among the many tables and chairs scattered along the square, she sat with her friends, teasing and cajoling with Mahana and Michiru as they watched Tatsuki and Keigo endeavour to dance—the former standing as still as she possibly could while the latter fumbled around in an effort not to step on her toes—and through it all, brushing away Chizuru's many attempts to grope her._

_After a fashion, the music ended, much to Tatsuki's immense relief as she sat stiffly in her seat, and tried her best to pretend that the "dance" never happened, while Keigo mourned about the sublime opportunity to become closer to her immeasurably and dismally lost, resolving to drown his loss by quaffing flagon after flagon of ale._

_"Say, Orihime," slurred out Keigo, "did anyone ever tell you that you're like the goddess of the fall? I never noticed it before, but you remind me of autumn: all brown and red and orange and, and, and brown. Your hair is very long and shiny."_

_Tatsuki turned and hit the back of his head with her fist. "Stupid! Don't say stupid things!"_

_"Ow! I'm not! If I don't love you already I'd be declaring my love for her, the goddess of soft valleys—ow! Ow! Ow!" _

_"I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO SAYING STUPID THINGS!"_

_Her voice echoed throughout the square, and the music stopped, the villagers turning as one to watch the spectacle they were making. Soon after, whispers of "Ah, it's just lover's quarrel," and murmured assents of "Find a haystack or something!" began to circulate, and music and laughter struck anew._

_The dwellers of the village of Karakura never would have foreseen that this would be the last time they'd be holding good cheer as, not long after, a plague came for them._

* * *

It was quite a scene: bathed beneath the moon's silver filigree that was framed by the window, he sat upon a comfortable chair in the library with her cradled in his arms. Exuding serenity, Ichigo wished they could stay like this for a long time. With a sigh, he took the vial of green liquid that he'd used as a bookmark and could only shake his head that something so small as this could be the very thing he needed. He wanted, more than anything, for Orihime to drink the draught, but he couldn't force her. And judging by her reaction to it earlier, it seemed as though she wasn't nearly ready to accept her new life as he would've liked her to be.

The hours were steadily counting down, a few more days until the promised day, and he had to figure out some sort of countermeasure for her before then. And with his earlier act in the banquet room…well, he was certain that the other gods would be steering clear of him for the duration of their visit, so it would be nigh impossible to ask any of them for help as they would likely run away before he could get close enough to ask.

It wasn't as though he was overtly worried about lending his heart to Ulquiorra—it was just something that had never been done before, and though he was really loath to give that part of himself away, if only for a short time, it was still an agreement between gods, and it was not wise to renege on the deal. In order for one to attain something, one had to give: much like why he couldn't just stop the plague himself once the arrangement between him and the Goddess of Autumn was finished, the village of Karakura had to give something up in exchange. Honour between agreements must be upheld, regardless of the fact that both sides had dissolved their party.

He felt her stirring against his chest, and he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. Through the haze of his whitened rage earlier, he'd felt that same difference he'd sensed in her before. It was stronger, more concentrated—and it had been the very thing that was preventing him from finding her, and it had been coming from Orihime herself. A sinking feeling in his chest told him what his instinct was conveying before, but he needed some sort of certification. He had an inkling as to the cause of it, as a flash of Kisuke's image pervaded his mind, and from his earlier momentary loss of control, he knew that it wouldn't be easy to find the God of Knowledge and Invention right now. Ichigo had been extending his mind for a trace of that god's presence, but it seemed he either had left Isshin's house or was somehow cloaking his presence through some device he'd invented.

Ichigo sighed. If what he felt was true, then inducing Orihime's transformation without her husband's initiation of it was done for the best; it was what he had been wishing for after all, and there would be no use in unleashing his anger and expending unnecessary energy at the culprit no matter how much it irked him. It was just like Kisuke to make a fool of him by having him think he was in control, but ending up taking the reins himself for his own experiment and observation.

It didn't mean, though, that Kisuke would get off scot-free. Ichigo would pay him back for this, eventually.

And he could only hope that Kisuke hadn't tricked her into drinking it. That somehow, she herself had taken it of her own free will.

He expanded his mind, threads of his spiritual pressure mingling with Orihime's. Now that he'd allowed himself to open up about this difference in her, he could clearly see just how altered her own spiritual pressure was from what it had been previously. There was no longer any trace of human in her; she was a god through and through, and with this all his worries _should_ be assuaged. He just hoped that the concoction that Kisuke brewed had something in it to ease the transition from mortal to immortal.

There was a ripple of spiritual presences by the door. Ichigo turned, and frowned, only managing to get a glimpse of three dark heads and one with a bright red head before they disappeared off to the side of the ajar door upon noticing that he'd sensed them. They've been sent to check up on his state, no doubt, to make sure he wasn't back to his white form and that he wasn't harming anyone, especially Orihime. He couldn't really blame the other gods for being worried.

His ears pricked as he heard their murmured voices, the door creaking as they managed to push Renji through, the latter skidding to a halt a few paces from where Ichigo sat, chagrined at their interruption and rubbing the back of his neck.

Renji cleared his throat. "So, uh…"

Ichigo stared at him expectantly through his furrowed brows.

"Hey," waved the interloper. "So, uh, you're back to normal," continued Renji, striving for nonchalance. "That's good. All clear, then. Very good. Yeah."

The seconds ticked by. The pony-tailed redhead's eyes wandered as he searched for anything else to say. He thought it was a bit unfair that he was conscripted to check up on the Death God just because he was a newly made god and wasn't presiding over anything unlike his wife or the God of Archery or even the God of Silence; just because it seemed as though there was no danger for archers or snow or silence to suddenly find themselves godless didn't mean that _he _didn't feel threatened. He still had to face God of Death. For lack of anything else, he said, "Shuuhei is okay, if you're wondering."

"Shuuhei?" Ichigo finally contributed to the conversation.

"The Scribe that you, uh…" Renji made various gestures to his neck.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That's good, then."

"Yeah."

"Aren't you going to apologize to him?" screeched out Rukia as she stormed from her hiding place towards Ichigo and proceeded to hit his head with her slipper. She figured since he was in his human form, it was now safe for her to abuse him in such a manner.

"Ow! What the hell, Rukia? Stop that. You're going to wake up Orihime. Stop her, Renji." It was all he could do to protect his head with one hand while holding on to his wife with his other arm.

Renji, for his part, took hold of Rukia, a little bit afraid that even this little squabble might be enough to turn the Death God back into his white form. The Goddess of Snow's arms and legs flailed around for a moment before she finally composed herself. "I'm fine, Renji. Put me down."

Her husband complied, and she smoothed her garments, dropping her slipper to the floor so she could slip her foot back into it. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I hope you'll think over what you've done this evening."

"Stop talking to me like a child," barked Ichigo.

"Stop acting like one."

"Rukia," admonished Renji, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You're making too much noise," said Ichigo, shifting so that Orihime was more comfortable in his arms. A huffing exhale broke from him at the interruption of his solitude, feeling something digging into his palm and remembering the vial he held. His brows furrowed deeper in thought. "Say, Renji..."

"Yes?"

"When you were turned into a god, yours didn't look like this, did it?" He held out the container with the green substance. The tattooed redhead took it and turned it over, staring at it with a frown while Rukia peered over his arm.

"No," answered Renji. "Mine wasn't a puke green colour. It was piss yellow. Ow!" The Goddess of Snow had hit him on the arm.

Ichigo could only shake his head. "Did Urahara make yours, too?"

Renji nodded, handing the vial back.

"How was it?"

"How was what?"

"What was it like when you took it? Did you feel any changes?"

Renji's pallour became sullen and sickly as he remembered. "Let's just say that I think Kisuke had had too much fun with mine."

Ichigo's spine straightened as his expression became stricken. "What do you mean by that?" he asked cautiously.

"It lasted a couple of days. I felt bloated, and for some reason, I had morning sickness and had some weird cravings for food..." He blew air out exasperatedly at the recollection while Rukia rubbed his back in a comforting manner. "Like I said, I think he'd had too much fun making my drink. If it's any consolation, I don't think he made Orihime's the same way he made mine."

Ichigo's mouth was set in a thin line, not finding much reassurance in Renji's account and even less in Kisuke's capabilities. He rose with Orihime in his arms. "I'm taking her back to our room."

"Will you be alright?" asked Renji.

He nodded, taking a small step towards the door, and then changed his mind and made his way towards the balcony, and from there, disappeared in a flash.

"Coward," muttered Rukia.

"I don't blame him. He did cause a disturbance in the banquet hall."

"Seriously! Orihime was here all this time, there was no need for him to lose control."

"But were you able to sense that she _was_ here?"

Rukia shuffled her feet. "No."

"Right. Nobody was able to except for the God of Life. Wasn't that strange?"

"It was," she conceded with a frown. "Do you think she already drank the draught?"

"Well, the vial looked to be still sealed, but knowing Kisuke, he'd probably already induced her with it in his own sneaky way."

"That wouldn't surprise me at all, actually."

"Well, we've seen that they're okay. Want to get out of here?" asked Renji, his hand held out.

Rukia took it and pulled him toward her, standing on tiptoes and snaking her arms up to wrap around his shoulders. "Are you thinking about any particular place?"

Renji crouched for a moment and rose again with Rukia in his arms. "Our room comes to mind."

"Hmm, sounds good." And in a flash, they were gone.

The two gods left at the door straightened from their hiding position. Uryu pushed his glasses further up his nose and cleared his throat. "I say that everything seems to be well, wouldn't you?"

The God of Silence held up his thumb in answer, and they too, left the premises to announce to the rest of the gods that the Death God had calmed down and had retired to his room.

* * *

Orihime's eyes blinked open.

She was unsurprised to find the familiar awning of the four-poster bed above her. With a clarity she had never felt before, she rose from the bed, momentarily eyeing the Death God deep in slumber, reached out to touch his cheek, but in the end, thought better of it, and made her way to the balcony. Striding along the way, and down its steps, in her mind she pulled the image of the place she sought, knowing that the house would comply to her wish—it was all so easy for her now, especially with this new-found power, knowledge and skill so effortless now that she knew she could harness it. With her realization from before, it seemed as though something in her mind broke free, all the limitations caused by her humanity had disappeared.

And yet, even so, she felt heartsick for that which she had lost.

Finally, she heard the sound of moving water, and a calm river came into view. Much like in the Death God's house, there was a dock made of stone in the God of Life's palace adjacent to the river's edge, and steps that descended into the water. If what the Scribe had told her was true, then this body of water was the bridge between the world of the gods and where she had come from.

Through the mist of night and the gurgling of the water, she saw a boat docked by the stone stair, and yet, she hesitated, foot suspended over a step. The compulsion that drove her upon awakening suddenly left, and she felt her heart torn.

If she went there, what would she find? All of those who had been close to her have passed away. The village would not be the same as it had been, and she had been much changed that she didn't think they would be welcoming; they would more than likely see her return as a curse, the Death God having discarded their sacrifice.

A shuddering exhale broke from her, her lips trembling as she clutched at her head, trying with all her might not to let the tears fall. Just as she felt at her weakest and most vulnerable, she felt a pair of arms gently wrapping themselves around her form, and she leaned against an all-too-familiar chest, the heart beating steadily beneath her ear soothing her from her sorrow. She felt his lips against her hair, and his voice, murmuring nothings, reverberating in his chest against her cheek.

As the dry tears and her shuddering breaths passed, Orihime pushed herself from his arms, and stared with an unwavering gaze into the eyes of her husband. She felt no fear now; the truth that only he could give could only strengthen the love she felt for him.

"Tell me everything." Her tone was unquestioning, neither was it commanding. And her voice, she was relieved to find, was unshaken.

"About what?" asked Ichigo puzzledly.

"About you, about the Goddess of Autumn, about the plague."

He sighed, a guilty look passing across his features as he staggered back. He turned away and leaned over the balustrade of the dock, a fingernail chipping away at the worn marble. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words, finding this moment of truth not easy at all.

But he felt the tug at his heart; her need and confusion immoveable objects that disturbed its rhythm, and at the back of his mind he wondered how she could've wormed her way into it so seamlessly. How far and how fast she had become his heart itself.

And this, this was the last wall between them, and with his own words he could take it down brick by brick until there was nothing separating them. With this, this last thing he could give, she would finally be able to accept everything. Surely?

The beat inside his chest accelerated, and he turned, and began.

* * *

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Renji - formerly a Scribe (servant to the gods), now a god by association for marrying a goddess  
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Uryu - God of Archery  
Sado - God of Silence  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn

Thanks for reading :)  
Sept/2011


	18. object

A/N: You guys, I must say I feel really lucky to have you awesome people as readers ^_^ Thanks very much, as always!

This chapter is a bit different from the previous ones. I'm sure a lot of you were enjoying the flashbacks, but sadly, the more I thought about the direction of this story and what I could write about, it would seem that continuing the same pattern would feel like a filler. The stuff that was needed to convey were already shown (however haphazard the order ^^;;), and I hope you won't be too weirded out by its absence and would still continue to enjoy this fic.

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 18: Object**

* * *

The only sound left was the gentle slapping of the river's wave against the descending steps.

On the steps, they sat, and Ichigo looked at her from the corner of his eye, swallowing back other words he'd wanted to use to give her reassurance. It hadn't been easy for him to judge what to conceal or reveal, but in order to keep her at his side the truth was what she needed from him.

A sigh escaped her lips, her brows puckering as she processed all that he'd told her. Orihime knew it wouldn't be easy to know how she had come to be here, but finally realizing the full extent of it...

"It's a lot to take in," whispered she finally, as something to fill the silence.

His head turned, a hand reaching forward but faltering, curling into a fist to fall by his side again.

With a deep exhale she stood, and he followed, couldn't help himself from mirroring her action. The deep set of his brows became that of worry; in showing her his truth, had he lost her?

She turned to face him finally, and her eyes, despite their direct gaze, were shuttered, unreadable. "Will you," said she, "grant me something? Just one thing?"

"Anything," was all he could say, a reply that burst out of him automatically. Anything she wanted, he would give, if only she could look at him the way she did. Yearning filled his heart, made it beat so hard and so fast within his chest, counting down to the moment when he could read love once more in her eyes and her expression.

"Will you let me go back to my village? Alone?"

He staggered back a bit, surprised, worry of a different kind clouding his features. He berated himself for his foolishness, wanted to strongly object against what she asked, but the touch of her hand on his cheek was gentle, and his eyes flew to hers, relief overcoming him to see softness there.

"Just for one day?" Her other hand rose to his other cheek. "Please?"

He took hold of her wrists, his grip tight, wanting to hold down and hold fast, to keep her in place. Fear made his own hands tremble.

"I forgive you."

And with those words she'd softly uttered, his hold loosened, his hands falling back down to his sides, defeat slumping his shoulders.

On seeing this, with a tender expression she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, relieved to feel his ready answer. The kiss deepened, and he pulled her sharply against him. She could taste his desperation with every advance and retreat of his lips, and she plunged her tongue into his open mouth, massaging it against his. She swallowed his moan, pulling back slightly in order to breathe, leaning forehead against forehead.

"Just one day," he whispered, forcing the words out even as his hold on her tightened. He didn't want to let go, his mind filling with everything that could go wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to retract his words nor to deny her her request. She had really never asked him for anything, and he felt as though all he'd done to her was to take and take.

And with a final resolve, Ichigo released her, closing his eyes as her fingers lingered on his cheek, opening them again as he heard her soft steps down the stairs. He followed Orihime to assist her into the boat, unwilling to let go of her hand even as she sat down.

Releasing her hand only to grip at the rim of the boat, he said, "Just think of where you want to go, and this boat will take you there."

And with a push he watched as the river flowed his heart downstream.

* * *

_"Do you know where it all began?"_

_She looked at him, the image of a friend, happy and oblivious of just how what he'd spoken could have borne such a curse on their village, flashed through her mind. Orihime took a deep breath, and answered softly, "With words."_

_The Death God nodded. "How such things begin with gods, with words."_

* * *

She sat, huddled in the middle of the boat, sighing as she rested her cheek upon the arms placed over her knees. The boat's gentle swaying on the water failed to lull her; the cool and crisp emptiness of her surroundings mirrored what she felt, as over and over what the God of Death told her swirled through her mind.

* * *

_"Humans do have power over gods. A simple word spoken can greatly hurt our pride. And so it was with your friend's words about you and the Goddess of Autumn._

_"With us, when we want something that we can't simply get with our own powers, we turn to other gods to bargain. We can only give something of ourselves in exchange for it. She couldn't bear to wait until the fall season came to punish you all for what your friend said, and so she came to me, offering her body for physical pleasure in exchange for my power."_

_Orihime felt her heart contract. The straightforwardness—so matter-of-fact in tone—struck at her. His truth wasn't laced with gentleness, as though he had masked himself from feeling how they could affect him. But her and her own feelings...it hurt still to learn of that other person being able to be with him and touch him, although she knew she had never been, and couldn't ever be, his first as he had been for her._

_So then, where did she and him begin? The Orihime and Ichigo as they were now?_

_She closed her eyes and tried to distill the pain away, and concentrated on something else. She started as she finally comprehended what she had always realized at the back of her mind. "Because of his own words, Keigo was the first to die."_

_"Yes."_

* * *

In the boat, she shook her head.

_We are all fools_, she thought. Inviting the anger of a goddess with such an inconsequential thing said by someone who had had too much to drink. Something so simple and so, so stupid that it caused the death of so many villagers.

_Just for that_. Her friends, her brother, everyone she had cared about perished because of those words. And as the subject of those words, she was spared.

* * *

_"So is this my punishment?" asked she, trying to control her breathing, trying not to let herself become overwhelmed. "To be the one to know all this? Because I was the one he spoke them to?"_

_"No," answered he, still in that even voice, but gentle now and soft. "You're here because of my own selfishness."_

_She turned to him, a myriad of questions in her gaze._

_"You're here," he continued, "because when Senna showed you to me, I felt something I've never felt before. I fell in love with you. More than anything, I wanted to keep you safe; I've wanted you for myself."_

_She could feel herself melting, and she broke eye contact to stare at something, anything, other than those eyes._

_"But," he continued, "no matter how many times I've wanted to simply take you away from there, I couldn't bring myself to. The more I went to your village to usher the souls of those who died from the plague, the more I found myself drawn to you. The more I wanted you to look at me the way I look at you._

_"When I parted ways with Senna, it was not on friendly terms. She still carried her hatred and anger for you and your village. I wanted, more than anything, to take you from that place, but I didn't want to take you against your will._

_"And there is also the honour of the gods to uphold. I must adhere to the bargain with the Goddess of Autumn and even though what could be called our relationship ended, I couldn't just stop the plague without some sort of exchange for it. I had to turn to another god."_

* * *

Orihime ran her hands through her hair.

Was everything that brought her to this point nothing more than a series of exchanges?

Her heart ached; she loved him but she felt betrayed, conflicted. She'd thought it was all a simple matter, beginning with what she'd learned from Rukia a long time ago: he had been with someone, their relationship ended, he sent the plague to her village because of it, and she was sacrificed to become his bride so that the rest of the villagers might be spared.

But it was all that and so much more. The cause of everything was the blabbering of a drunken friend, a comparison made between her and a goddess, who in turn turned to the God of Death to send them the plague as punishment. But he had fallen in love with her, a mere mortal, and sought out to bargain with another god so that she could be sent to him.

* * *

_"Another god?" she asked._

_He nodded. "Ulquiorra, the God of Despair, also the God of Visions."_

_She turned inward to her mind, recalling a page in her brother's book. A slight and pale figure, seeming to emit sadness with the green tracks that ran down his cheeks, sporting a dispassionate expression despite them. He had a curious power: he could remove his own eye and with it show others what he had seen of events that had transpired, and what he could see of things to come._

_She swallowed, forcing herself to gain more knowledge of the circumstances that had brought her here. "What did you ask of him?"_

_"I asked him to send a vision in a dream to the elders of your village. That they must offer a sacrifice to me in exchange for the cessation of the plague. You."_

_Their eyes met and held. She couldn't find any words to describe how she felt. Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled with her voice, but in the end she could only turn away, feeling the nearness of him, wanting the space between them to lessen and at the same time to stretch so that she could gather what ever remnants was left of her heart._

_Was this truly what loving a god was like? Learning of all these sequential manipulations was too much to bear, and her legs gave beneath her at their weight, flopping her down onto the stone steps._

_From her periphery, she saw him lowering himself beside her, hands clasped together over his knees, casting furtive glances her way._

_She listened, wary of yet more things left unsaid, but all that filled the silence was the flowing of the river._

* * *

To have done all this, for her.

Then, was all that had transpired her fault? Was she to be blamed for everything? She covered her face with her hands. What was she supposed to think? How was she supposed to feel?

And what about the Death God? What would happen to him?

She looked behind her, but the dock to the God of Life's house had long since vanished. There were only trees and mist surrounding her, alone in the water. There had been sadness in his gaze when last she looked at him, watching her as the river bore her away.

Even though she said she forgave him, she needed time; time to be alone, time to be away from him, time to sort her mind and heart from the jumbled mess they've been in since this all began. Even though she could feel her heart breaking, she felt she needed this. She needed to find herself and her place.

In the boat she laid back, and watched as the Night God's sakura petal stars begin their descent back from the sky, like fireworks, like snow.

She felt as though those petals were the pieces of her heart. Falling. Falling. Falling.

* * *

The boat drifted down the river as she watched the sky lit up with the coming sun. With her hand, Orihime shielded her eyes from the brightness, sitting up to make note of her surroundings. There was nothing much to see but trees and rocks, the mist having dispersed as the night waned, and the occasional stone steps of the dock of some god's palace.

She leant at the side of the boat, her chin resting on her arms, trying to guess whose house it was she just passed by. Judging from the relief of cherry blossoms carved into the stone all over the dock and its surrounding terraces, it was likely the God of Night and Spring's house.

She sighed as it disappeared from view, and stared straight ahead, startled to find another boat drifting along a little before her. As she neared it, it seemed to her to actually be floating in place, and when she was close enough she peered curiously over its side.

A figure lay in it, cloaked in black with a hood over its head. She stretched out her senses to feel its spiritual pressure, but she felt nothing that would indicate its identity; she sensed nothing about its presence at all.

She watched as one of its hands lifted up the hem of its hood, and a grey eye peered at her.

"Ah, madam!" said a voice that she instantly recognized, and she gasped, her mouth curving into an annoyed pout.

"You!" exclaimed she as the figure sat and pulled back the hood to reveal the smiling face of the God of Knowledge and Invention. "You changed me! You made me drink the potion that turned me."

He had the audacity to give her an affronted look as he took his fan from the recesses of his black cloak, opened it and flipped it back in forth in front of the lower half of his face. "Uh-uh. I did give you the cup, but no such command to drink did I utter. You drank it of your own volition, madam."

She opened her mouth to retort, but no such came, and she coloured at the recollection that indeed he'd merely handed over a cup to her, but he was still very suspiciously watchful of her behaviour afterwards. But she wouldn't allow him to simply brush aside her indignation. "Even so," said she, "you didn't tell me anything at all about what exactly it was you gave me before _or _after I drank it."

"True, and I admit that that will be the only thing I was culpable of."

She huffed, holding onto his boat just in case he had the presence of mind to flee.

"You make it sound like it's not entirely your fault I'm in this predicament."

"I was under orders."

One of Orihime's eyebrows rose at this, her expression conveying how very dubious she was of his answer.

Urahara stopped flipping his fan and closed it, and began tapping the end of it against his cheek.

"I'm sure the God of Death talked to you about the consequence of a human bearing a god's child, and since his father is a dear friend of mine, I felt inclined to do my utmost to aid any member of his family."

Her eyebrow lowered a fraction.

The God of Knowledge and Invention leaned in conspiratorially, a curious glint in his grey eyes. "You know, I must say how surprised I am to find you here, just by yourself. If you don't mind my asking, why is that?"

Orihime blinked, and leaned away from the sudden closeness, both brows lowering to a frown. She couldn't help feeling as though she was being perused like a small object under a magnifying glass.

"Oh, it's not hard to surmise the reasoning to be a lover's spat," continued the god. "Your husband being the way he is—and incidentally, I _most certainly_ did _not _run away from the God of Life's house when Mr Death transformed. Ahaha. I just felt like I needed fresh air to clear my mind, yes indeed. And this cloak that I've invented to mask one's spiritual pressure...I'm only wearing it because I do not wish to be disturbed. It has nothing at all to do with hiding from the Death God—but you don't really need to know all that. However you want to believe my reasoning is entirely up to you.

"Anyway, this is quite curious, almost unbecoming, you might say, of him. I suppose I can conclude that he has confidence enough in the potion I made for you to leave you free like this."

"You make it sound like I'm in danger, and not just because of the pregnancy," she managed to say, a thread of thought untangling in her mind.

"But you are."

She released her hold on his boat and eyed him warily.

"Not from me, madam, I assure you."

But she did not feel reassured.

"I do believe, from certain rumours I've heard, that the Goddess of Autumn has been after your person for quite some time."

"Me?"

He nodded.

"But I thought she was after my village, and that she's had her revenge through the God of Death."

"Your village, yes. But mostly you, in particular."

She scrambled through her mind for anything that the Death God might have said about this, but can only recall him mentioning that the Goddess of Autumn still carried her hatred and anger. Her shoulders slumped with a long, drawn-out exhale, and on seeing this, the God of Invention and Knowledge pulled something out of his cloak.

"Here, take this," he said, handing over an identical black cloak to her. "I insist," he announced in such a way that brooked no arguments when she tried to push it back. "It's for your protection, my way of making amends, if you will."

Grudgingly accepting, she unfolded the cloth and pulled it over her shoulders, listening to his explanations.

"Giving you the potion," said the god, "was not done out of malevolence. It is, as I've told you before, my wedding gift to you and the God of Death. It is what is due to you in marrying a god. It is my own means of fulfilling a wish for a happy and prosperous life together between you and Ichigo.

"Further, I was simply helping the Death God; he feared for your safety and I merely gave a means of protection. I'm not usually one to say this, but nobody had ever seen him quite this happy, and as his father's friend, I felt inclined to give him the means to keep you forever.

"But alas, I see it was for naught." He opened his fan once more and leisurely fanned himself as he shook his head. "So soon into the marriage, and it's already rocky. His fault, of course."

She could only bury her head into the dark fabric, lacking any course to reply. Wearing the cloak was strange; she felt thoroughly hidden by it. Just as she hadn't been able to sense the God of Invention and Knowledge's own spiritual pressure, she could still make out others through it, however far off they felt.

"Why do I need to wear this?" Orihime felt compelled to ask.

"It is as thorough a shield as any, without using your own power to conceal yourself."

"Shield? Power?"

He nodded. "It seems that that's how your power as a god manifested."

She could only shake her head. "I don't understand. When did that happen?"

"Yesterday, while you were at the library."

"But—"She stopped, her train of thought derailed, and her eyes widened with surprise and realization. She had imagined a golden shield, had she not, to protect herself, and when it broke, she'd felt as though the shards were pieces of her own self. "It was real?"

Urahara nodded. "And it came from you. It was pretty powerful, too, though it lacked proper control." He pointed his fan at her. "You would need to practice on how to properly harness it."

"How did I—? How could I—?" Words hurried and blocked her throat, but she finally managed to hang onto something that she never realized she would utterly miss: "But I'm only human. I couldn't have done something like that."

"Were, madam. You _were_ one, once upon a time. And now you're a god. And what better way to fight a god, especially one that's bent on seeking revenge, than with another god's power?"

"Fight? I don't think I can."

"Well, with that cloak on, there's little chance the goddess in question will find you, even with her magic mirror."

"Magic mirror?" She felt foolish for having repeated what he was saying, but she couldn't help herself.

"Yes, it is an artifact that she uses to glimpse at the past, present, or future."

She heard the smile in his voice as he went on. "Who knows, the Goddess of Autumn might have asked her mirror on who was the fairest one of all, and unfortunately, your image was the one it brought." On seeing her expression, he waved his fan. "I jest, of course."

As their boats began to flow with the river once more, Urahara asked, "Would it be alright for me to join you in your journey?"

Orihime had wanted to decline, but the thought of being alone just to have her thoughts entangle themselves over and over in her mind became too much to bear, and she supposed that having him around would be a somewhat welcome distraction. If anything else, she figured she could learn more from the God of Knowledge himself of yet more things that her own husband had not been able to tell her.

"Yes," acquiesced the newly-made goddess.

* * *

APPENDIX

Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn  
Ulquiorra - God Despair and Visions  
Byakuya - God of the Night and Spring  
Urahara - God Knowledge and Invention

Thanks for reading :)  
Oct/2011


	19. missing

A/N: Hello again! Hard to believe that a month or two hasn't passed yet and there's already an update, eh? LOL (although I can't promise the next one will come as quickly)  
As always, thank you for your continued reading of this fanfic! I am really grateful for your support, and your comments and speculations do give me something to think over while writing.  
For those wondering why Ulquiorra was following Grimmjow in chapter 12's flashback, I hope you'll have fun with the answer here as I had while writing it XD

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 19: Missing**

* * *

Side by side, the two boats traveled down the river as morning spread out against the sky. Blinking out their lights little by little, the stars disappeared, and only the gibbous moon was left, plump and still bright in the early morning light.

"So where are we headed to, if you don't mind my asking?" The God of Invention and Knowledge gave her a curious look.

"To Karakura," responded Orihime.

"The village where you came from?"

"Yes."

"How fascinating. I must admit that it's been a long time since I traveled into the mortal world. I'm sure it's seen a lot of changes. Are you thinking of visiting anyone in particular?"

"No." She shook her head. "My friends and my brother are dead."

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that. So then, the purpose of this visit is?"

"I wanted to see how the rest of the villagers have been faring since the plague."

"How kind."

She peered at him puzzledly, wondering if beneath those words he was being sarcastic. But he only stared back, eyes wide and blinking innocently at her continued perusal. Turning away, she sighed, speculating on how much longer it would be before they would reach her village.

"If you don't mind my prying, how come you're going there by yourself? Is this a test of trust between husband and wife?"

She thought for a moment. _Maybe it is_, she answered in her head. Another sample of exchange in the series of exchanges that had become her life. Another notch to add to the bartering system.

"Is that all there is in the lives of gods?" mumbled Orihime.

"What is?"

She was shaken from her reverie, seeing the god's curious expression. But it was something that had been nagging at her as she tried to wrap her mind around all that she'd learned from the Death God earlier.

"Trading," answered she after a few seconds of gathering her thoughts. At the god's questioning look, she elaborated, "I just learned today the reason why I came to be the bride of the Death God. It was the product of a series of trades: first between him and the Goddess of Autumn, and then between him and the God of Despair. I have to admit that I never thought that gods would ever play with my life like that."

"I see," said Kisuke thoughtfully. "It's all symbiosis, really. Humans do it as well, though not quite to the same extent of affecting the macrocosm as our game-play."

"Game-play," parroted she derisively.

"You must understand that it's simply how we gods are. I make no apologies for how we spend our time, as callous as it may be to you. It is how we function; at least every god had played at some point in their lives. And—" he held up a finger to stop her interjection, "—it could have as dire a consequence for us as it is for humans.

"Take for example Mr Death himself. Once upon a time the Night God held a monopoly over the sky. But clouds covered the stars one time and it caused fear upon mortals, and so the Death God took it upon himself to sacrifice his heart so that the night wouldn't be so dark. You can just imagine how that had hurt the pride of the God of Night, and as exchange for such a trespass he asked the Death God to keep his heart for one night out of the month.

"The affairs of gods are much like those of humans, only we have a much broader effect over the world. It may be hard to accept, but it is your prerogative to do so or not. We simply _are_." He shrugged, a different glint gleaming in his eyes that made her instantly cautious. "You said that there had been a bargain between Ichigo and the God of Despair. May I ask what that bargain entailed?"

Orihime eyed him suspiciously as she chose her words. "The Death God asked him to send a vision to the elders of my village about sacrificing me."

"And what did the God of Despair get in return?"

She frowned, only now realizing the Death God hadn't given her that information. Did he purposefully omit it? Maybe he deemed that it wasn't that important, and had no bearing upon what was between him and her.

"I don't know," replied she after a fashion.

"Hmm." Kisuke began to fan himself. "I surmise that it should be something interesting."

"What is?" She couldn't help asking.

"What Ulquiorra wanted in return."

"How so?"

Kisuke smiled. "The God of Despair is a rather curious fellow. You will never find one more inquisitive than he, not even us Knowledge Gods. He lacks a heart, you see, and it's what prevents him from fully coming to understand what it is he wants to know. The _feel_ of things, not just an intellectual comprehension of things.

"There is one instance wherein the God of Destruction went to him to ask for a vision. Grimmjow wanted to know how much of the mortal world will fall under his dominion. Ulquiorra gave him a vision of the world falling to war and natural disasters, destruction everywhere. Even so, this did not satisfy Grimmjow, but the vision was given and all that was left was for his end of the bargain."

"Well, what did the God of Despair ask for?"

Kisuke's smile grew. "His stomach."

Orihime blinked. "The God of Destruction's stomach?"

The God of Invention and Knowledge nodded eagerly. "You see, Ulquiorra came to the conclusion that this feeling of greed came from Grimmjow's belly. He wanted to understand whether this penchant for craving destruction would be whetted at its removal. Grimmjow, on the other hand, was against this idea and reneged on his payment. A fight broke out between them, lasting four days and four nights, with the God of Despair winning and purposely acquiring his due. Up to this day, if you should meet the God of Destruction, you will find a gaping hole where his stomach used to be, and the God of Despair occasionally following him to see if there had been any changes in his appetite for destruction."

She could only gape as the god finished his tale. "I've never heard of that story," she admitted.

"You will find that not all of the goings-on of gods' lives are chronicled by the Scribes for humans to read. We have to keep up a certain image, after all."

"I can see that."

The god unfolded his legs and pillowed his head in his arms as he laid down in the boat, pulling the hood over his eyes with a chuckle. A wry smile curled her lips as she pondered his words, and huddled herself deeper within the cloak.

She could attest to the fact that the Death God had not given his stomach to the God of Despair as payment, even as a blush permeated her cheeks. She couldn't even begin to wonder what her husband gave to the god in return for the service rendered, but it mustn't have been as controversial or extraordinary, for surely the other gods would have known about it. Ichigo seemed complete, with no parts missing, and if the transaction was dire, then he would have informed everyone about it, right?

The sun was overhead, bright and warm. There was a strangeness in the air, as though it had become heavy, and Orihime had come to realize that it had been a long while since she'd last seen a stone dock that led to the palace of a god. Had they already made their way from the realm of gods to the mortal world?

She still was not sure how it worked, but ahead, she could make out weeping willows that swept their leaves on the water. _Already here?_ she thought, her throat suddenly dry as she recognized the familiar trees where she and her friends used to play around in when they were younger.

"Ara, I think we've reached our destination," said the god as he closed his fan.

Orihime looked around, apprehension suddenly filling her at the familiar sight and smell of her village nearby. The boats docked themselves at the bank of the river, and the God of Invention and Knowledge assisted her from hers. The woods adjacent to the river were sparse, a short walk taking them to the road leading into the heart of the village.

It seemed so long ago that last she was here, the atmosphere stuffed with the air of solemnity. The road was eroded with the tracks of carts that had come and gone, and little by little she was overcome by nostalgia.

A small herd of cattle grazed on the field to their right, and she stopped to lean on the fence. "There, just over those trees," she pointed as the god stood beside her, "is the Mizushima farm. Seeing this, I just remembered that my friend, Tatsuki, and I used to tend to the animals here until I was old enough to apprentice myself to the baker in the village square." She swallowed as her eyes misted, and she blinked her lids rapidly to keep the tears at bay even as her voice broke. "It looks the same, but it's so different." She shook her head as her lips trembled. "I don't know why I was expecting to hear her voice just now."

Urahara stood off to the side quietly, letting her have her moment.

She sniffed as she composed herself, wiping at the stray tear on the corner of her eye, gave him a tremulous smile as she began to proceed down the road once more.

"I suppose this used to be a very lively place once," said the god conversationally.

She nodded. "It wasn't big, but it was bustling. It was a happy place to live in, until..."

"Of course."

The fields began to make way to houses, clustering closer together as they neared the village square. Upon reaching it, she noticed that it had been cleaned, the decorations from several weeks ago that had been abandoned at the onset of the plague had been taken down.

Every step filled her with trepidation. How would they react when they saw her? What would she say to them?

There weren't many people out on the square; about five children played by the fountain, and she gave a small wave, frowning when they seemed to ignore her. _I guess they're too busy_, she thought.

Wafting from the open door of the bakery where she used to work was the smell of fresh bread, and she inhaled delightedly, skipping over to peer through the entrance, stopping herself from colliding against the figure that was stepping out, standing stiffly in surprise when that person walked right through her.

"Eh? EHH?" Orihime turned and eyed the figure's back, watching him kick at the ball that the children had been playing with. "H-he, th-that was Shishi-Sushigawara and, and, he w-walked—" she sputtered to the God of Knowledge and Invention as she pointed.

"Yes, he did," agreed Urahara nonchalantly.

She could only gape in wonder, frowning as a thought struck her. "Am I invisible?"

"We are, yes."

Her frown deepened. "Is it because of this cloak?"

"No, the cloaks only leave us undetectable to other gods."

"Then how—? Why—?"

"In the mortal's world, we gods lack corporeal substance. We are merely spirits. Some of these humans, those with a strong inclination, or what's called a 'sixth sense', would be able to sense our presence. Only the gods with the power of transformation are able to physically manifest themselves and interact with those who dwell here.

"The opposite is true for humans who are taken into the realm of gods, as I'm sure you know, having experienced it yourself."

A sigh of disappointment escaped her. "Why didn't you tell me about it before?"

"It's simple: you never asked me."

She stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head.

She started as laughter broke out from the inn next door, finding most of the remaining population gathered at the bar. On seeing this familiar sight, a sense of relief came over her. This was how it was back then: the villagers gathering for a meal and drink at any time of the day, spreading gossip and all kinds of goings-on within the village and the surrounding towns.

Fast footsteps on the cobblestones made her turn, and she recognized the plump woman as the baker she had been apprenticed to when she lived here. Joy filled Orihime, but she couldn't help the feeling of displacement that wracked her body when the running woman passed through her to burst through the open doorway.

"There you are, Misato!" she greeted after peering through the small crowd.

The bespectacled woman she addressed stood when her friend waved at her from the door. "What is it, Kyoko?"

"Have you heard about the Asano girl?"

_Asano girl?_ wondered Orihime, unable to help feeling chagrined at being able to eavesdrop undetected. _That's Keigo's older sister_, she noted, hoping that there was nothing wrong with her. As with Orihime, Mizuho Asano was the only one of her family who had survived the plague and had been among the young women that the elders contemplated sacrificing before deciding on her through divine intervention.

"What about her?"

The baker waved her hands enthusiastically. "She's gone over to the next village to nab herself a husband."

"What?"

Kyoko nodded. "You remember that scary-looking bald man?"

Misato took off her glasses to wipe them at her sleeve, a bewildered look on her face. "The one with the elegant-looking male..." she cleared her throat and wiggled her eyebrows as she said the last word, "..._companion?_"

"Yes! Yes, that one."

Shaking her head as she put her glasses back on, Misato remarked, "Well, I wish that girl the best in putting herself between those two, if you know what I mean."

Orihime turned away, a small smile growing on her lips as the women's conversation continued. She knew that soon enough, this news would spread throughout what remained of the village, as other news like it had before.

Barring the fact that there were less people around, everything seemed to have gone back to how things used to be before the plague. Those who were spared had gradually been able to pick up the pieces of their lives, continuing on as was normal for them.

_That's good, isn't it?_ she thought to herself. _This is what I came for, what I wanted to see. To see them moving on with the rest of their lives, satisfied that the sacrifice had not been made in vain. That their hopes and their prayers were answered. _Now they all lived for those who have passed on.

She closed her eyes as the children ran right through her with their ball, shouting and laughing as they chased each other around the square. Once upon a time, those children had been her and her friends, gallivanting through the square, through each other's houses, through the woods and fields.

And now, here she stood, a mere speck in the scenery, no longer a part of the place she had called home since her brother brought them to live here all those years ago.

_I don't belong here anymore._

"'You will go beyond,'" she muttered.

"Pardon?"

She jumped as Urahara suddenly spoke up beside her, putting a hand over her chest as she eyed him warily. He raised his eyebrows at her in question, and she felt inclined to answer. "It's something a fortune teller once told me."

"'Go beyond?' Are those the very words this fortune teller said?"

"Yes. Why?"

"For gods, 'going beyond' is a very specific event. I myself have gone beyond when I was only a child." He looked up at the sky fondly, cupping his hand as though to capture the sun. "Alas, that was so very long ago, I hardly remember it."

She tucked her hair behind her ears as she pondered his words. More and more, she felt as though realization was being hammered upon her head. She felt as though she had gone so far beyond even what she was able to comprehend, and as she ran her gaze across the familiar buildings, loss filled her, her feet taking her down a side lane to leave the god to his own curiosities, passing by rows of squat houses with thatched roofs, stopping in front of one that even now still smelled of home to her. Her eyes stung as the scent hit her nostrils, and she couldn't help the cry that broke out of her when she found that she couldn't touch the handle of the door. She was about to stamp her fists on the wooden entrance when she found herself staggering in right through with the force of her frustration, the door remaining unbroken.

Orihime stared as she straightened herself. Inside was as she had left it: the kettle and pans in their shelves gathering dust in the kitchen, the plants by the windows that had begun to wilt, the hearth devoid of warmth or coals, and the armchairs in front of it cold and lonely. She used to sit with her brother there as she mended his clothes while he read her the same stories from his book. Two bedrooms were in the back, one for each of them, as homely and as empty as the rest of the house.

She entered her old bedroom, her hand running along the wall, at the small side table, and at the dusty bedspread. Her pink teddy bear, Enraku, occupied its usual special place by her pillow. It had been a gift from Sora the first time they saw the traveling market arrive at their village. She sniffed as she was overcome by the hopeless yearning to wrap her arms around it. Her hand passing through its soft, fuzzy fur showed her the futility of her wish.

Everything seemed so small now. She never thought she would ever be in this place again, and standing there, even as her senses were assaulted with memories, she felt as though they were all someone else's, a past she could never regain.

It settled deep in her heart as she turned, walking through the door as though it was not there barring her way to the outside, the fact that she truly was no longer part of this world.

* * *

APPENDIX

Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Ulquiorra - God of Despair and Visions  
Grimmjow - God of Destruction

Thanks for reading :)  
Oct/2011


	20. gain

A/N: Happy New Year! And happy one year anniversary to this fic (on 12/31). I have to say that my Bleach fics are the ones I've ever been quite constant to in terms of (attempting!) to actually deliver chapter by chapter on a (hehe) regular basis, albeit delayed by months or so, and that's all thanks to all the lovely and wonderful readers who have been extremely supportive, so a thousand thank-you's to all of you for being awesome. And let's hope I'll actually see this through to the end as with Bitter Chocolate (which happened to be the first ever multi-chaptered fic I've actually finished *lol*). This story had certainly grown beyond where I'd been expecting it to as originally I thought it would only go up to seven chapters, and now it's at its twentieth and there's still more to write about. Knowing that you're all there looking forward to this really gets me going, and I'm really grateful for all the encouragement you've given.

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 20: Gain**

* * *

In the morning, the city of Inuzuri bustled as though it had never slept. The Death God stalked the streets of the south end, the area's unlit lanterns lining the cobblestones in between rows and rows of the upscale buildings of the red-light district. This early in the day, only clean-up crews abounded, sweeping dust from the ground, washing doors and windows, straightening the banners and signs of their work places and setting them up for another night's run.

He followed his instinct. Unseen and undetected, he passed through people and walls alike as though merely a part of the very air, up the wooden stairs that did not creak under his weight, and walked through a door that did not open at his touch. Inside the room, only shadowed sunlight pervaded through the thin drawn curtains over the window. On a bed set against the wall was a still form, unmoving under the covers, head smothered beneath a pillow.

The black sword materialized in his hand, and he raised it, ready to perform konso upon the soul of the recently deceased.

There was a sob, a clinking of chains over a heart as the soul suddenly sat up. He couldn't help but gasp upon seeing its face; the expression it wore mirrored his under the mask.

"Orihime...?" he breathed.

At the sound of his voice, the ghostly figure turned its head with its all too familiar face to him. His grip on the sword loosened.

Looking closely through the dim light of the room, the auburn shade of her hair was dull, and it fell over her naked form in ratty waves; her eyes were tired and wearied; her cheeks gaunt; and an expression he couldn't name crinkled the crow's feet at the corner of her eyes.

"That name," she whispered, "I had a daughter once. And a son. And they both disappeared one night."

The heart that had risen to his throat descended again to its place in his chest. Out of relief, a small laugh broke from him. Of course, _she_ wouldn't be here; his longing was so strong it made him see what he wanted.

"Her name was Orihime and his was Sora," continued she as her eyes roved over his form.

He nodded slightly. "I thought so."

"You know them?" She moved, knelt close to the edge of the bed, and hope shone in her eyes that immediately turned to sadness. She looked back to the body she'd left behind, and back at him, deflating onto her haunches at the sight of his sword in hand. "Y-you're here. You. God of Death. If you knew them, then like me, they're dead." The last word was said in a whisper so soft as she began to weep. "I've always wondered what had happened to them after they disappeared, and I've always thought they've made it out of this city alive. That they managed to live somewhere out there, had a happy life away from this place, away from us, away from their father who sold me to this brothel to pay off his debts. It was a dream that kept me going all these years in this place, a hope that they had a life that I couldn't give them. But it is just that: a dream."

For once, in the middle of his mission, he found himself uncomfortable, and couldn't help shuffling his clawed feet upon the floor. Before him was—dead and most of all, naked—the person that turned out to be his mother-in-law. Under normal circumstances this was a sight that he was used to, and therefore unfazed by. It was not in him to bring comfort to the recently deceased because to him they were part of his duty, his job, merely an ordinary part of the scenery. He seldom looked closely at the race he ushered to their rest, and the one time he did—

But as his relationship with his wife now stood... Ichigo was certain, though, that if he were to act on sympathy at this moment, it would be something Orihime would appreciate.

And so he spoke, partaking in a heretofore new experience of conversing with someone whose soul he was supposed to send off. "Your daughter, Orihime, is alive."

Her eyes, familiar and yet different, rose to his. The hopelessness gradually began to fade.

He hesitated, feeling rather awkward, but was somehow urged to continue. "I have taken her as my bride."

In those eyes, he read the thoughts that churned through her ghostly mind. _It must be the truth. It must be. It is the god's word, and we trust our lives in the hands of gods. It is a truth I have no choice but to accept for he has no cause to lie to me._

"Your son, however..."

She nodded, and grateful tears instead of those of sorrow flowed down her cheeks. "Thank you. Thank you. You've given me much comfort in my hour of death, and I commend my soul into your grace, O God of Death, as my Sora had with his."

Enlivened by her words of prayer, he gently tapped her forehead with the hilt of his sword, and closed his eyes as her soul dispersed.

* * *

She watched her feet on the ground. Gone were their usual trudging sounds upon the cobblestones, and the ringing silence issued no comfort to her sense of loss. Orihime gripped her elbows and steadily she made her way up the hill to the now enlarged cemetery. Pausing by the open gate, she bit her lip as she eyed the flowers that grew on the wayside, already knowing how futile it would be to attempt to reach for them. With a sigh, she proceeded on.

Rows and rows of gravestones lined on either side of her—monuments to the lives that had been sacrificed to the game of gods. Strangely, a kind of peace settled over her heart. Was it because it was a place of death that made it seem as though she was close to the Death God? She took in the scent of grass and flowers and rocks, and in her mind sprung the image of the house of the God of Death with its white stone columns embraced by its colourful flora. Was this place of rest modeled after that?

A shattering sound pierced the silence. Alarmed, she ran, following an agonized yell and what sounded like a stone breaking. Over the hill where newer graves were laid was a young man with short-cropped black hair, wielding a large hammer over his head and bringing it down upon the gravestones within his vicinity. Orihime could only watch, aghast with her hands over her mouth, at the desecration he was performing.

"Stop it," she whispered, repeating herself until her voice grew into a scream. "Stop it, please. S-Shishigawara, right? You were at the square earlier. You passed through me. Why are you doing this? Please stop."

But all to no avail. Her voice was merely the wind, the breeze shifting along the grass, the dust motes that fell upon the air. All she could do was watch helplessly as he destroyed the places of rest for the departed.

With a final scream, he fell to his knees, hammering the weapon down upon the jagged pieces of stone on the ground.

"Why?" She cried, her breath hitching inside her chest as she perused what he had done.

He sat back on his feet and stared at the sky. His eyes were empty, and his voice broke as he spoke, "Bring her back, you useless gods! Why did you take her from me? Why did you take her? My Orihime..."

"Eh?" Her breath caught in her throat. Her name? What could he have meant?

She only remembered him vaguely. He was the kind of boy who was always outside looking in. Where ever she had gone with her friends when they were alive, he seemed to always have been standing at the edge of her periphery. He'd seemed harmless and she'd thought nothing of it. He never approached for she had always been with somebody—her brother, Tatsuki, the baker—and she had been wrapped up in what the fortune teller had told her to truly pay him any attention enough to come to any realization about him.

Orihime closed her eyes and bowed her head. For all the good it did, she addressed him. "Your name is Moe... Moe Shishigawara, right? I'm sorry. For a lot of things. For never really thinking about you. For never acknowledging you. And for you to have done this here... If I knew how to fix things, to make things right, to undo what had been done, I would. You don't know how much I wish I could."

In her mind, she remembered the feeling of the golden glow in the library, of the triangular shield that made her feel protected. But what good would a shield do here? But she could feel it again, the warmth spreading from her, this time seeming to take the shape of a dome expanding upon the area of the scattered stones. Opening her eyes, she gasped, and shook her head at the sight in disbelief.

The once broken grave-markers began to conglomerate, forming back into their respective shapes upon their respective places.

Eyes wide, the young man, who'd only moments before wrought their destruction, stared as the stones were restored, surprise and fright warring for dominance within him. Chest heaving and mouth trembling, he slowly crawled over to the nearest headstone and touched it, his finger tracing a crack on its surface as it smoothened, leaving no evidence whatsoever that it had ever been broken. Fear won, and he screamed as he hurriedly rose to his feet, running and tripping down over the graves in his haste to escape.

The glow disappeared as the last of the stones was mended, leaving Orihime incredulous as she turned around to inspect what had transpired.

"Curiouser and curiouser," came the voice of the God of Knowledge and Invention behind her.

She turned to face him. "D-d-did you s-see it? W-what happened?"

"Yes. You did it again."

"I-I-I don't—it's n-not—" Her voice failed her, and she could only open and close her mouth, unable to find any words to utter.

"But it is." He walked past her and sat upon a gravestone, an ankle resting on a knee as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "An interesting manifestation of power. The power to shield and the power to restore, or maybe reverse, or perhaps reject...hmm..." His grey eyes perused her pointedly. "And I wonder if there's still more you've yet to show."

She felt her hackles rise at this. How could he gaze upon her in such a way, as though she was a specimen to an experiment he was conducting?

"Even Renji never displayed this kind of power," he continued. "But mind you, I never really was interested in what he could show."

"But this couldn't be me. I couldn't have done this."

Kisuke tilted his head to the side. "Why not?"

She sputtered. "B-because."

He raised an eyebrow. "'Because' what?"

She fluttered her hands helplessly at him.

He shifted in his seat. "If I may, Orihime, you have to face the fact that you now have powers, that you're now one of us. You have to accept all these changes, and learn how to use and control them."

She turned her back to him and flopped down on the ground with her hands over her ears, and couldn't help feeling childish over her own behaviour. She acknowledged the wisdom of his words; she recognized how beneficial it would be for her to simply do as he said, and yet still—

Behind her, he sighed as he stood, walking over to where she crouched and offering a hand. "Shall we head back? I'm sure there's much for you to ponder on. If you'd like, I can ask the Goddess of Snow or perhaps her husband to assist you in coming to terms with your godhood?"

Orihime took his proffered hand, and Kisuke pulled her up with a smile. She couldn't help giving him a rather sheepish answering smile in return. He had been of much help to her in this journey, and she felt as though she had been unappreciative of it.

"Thank you," said she, but he only shook his head in response. "No, really. Thank you. I am grateful for your company today."

He cleared his throat. "So, have you finished what you came here to do?" he said by way of changing the conversation.

She looked around, turning as her eyes roamed the graveyard. Although the place was brimming with its monuments, it felt so empty. Her brother, Tatsuki, Keigo, and all the others...she couldn't feel their presence here, and those in the village continued on without them, without her.

_This is my final goodbye. Farewell, everyone_.

Orihime turned back to face the God of Knowledge and Invention, and nodded. "I'm ready."

_Ready to go home_.

* * *

She scried through her crystal mirror, a fingertip tracing the edges of its autumn leaf border. Her orange eyes beheld the image that her own traitorous heart still yearned for: the splendour of the God of Death, out in the human world fulfilling the function he was born to do. Her hands shook as thorns squeezed her heart anew. Senna never expected to have her feelings for him develop the way they did; she never expected to have fallen for him in their brief time together.

All she'd wanted was to play the game. Before, she hadn't paid much attention to the human world. Along with the other gods of the seasons, she performed her duty as the Autumn Goddess, coming together in their monthly meetings to work out schedules for the weather, who ought to control clouds and precipitation on certain days, when would it be time for the flowers to flourish or the leaves to fall. With obligations such as these, who could ever have time to watch the foolishness of humanity?

But then, one night, unsummoned, her mirror showed her something. The lowly lives she had paid no mind to dared to speak of her, and compared her to another of their brethren. A stinging sensation pierced her pride as a god. _This is what it must feel like_, she'd thought. _This is why the others play the game. Because of _them_, these creatures who should know better, who_ should _know their betters_. The spark of anger was unbearable, and she knew it couldn't be quenched by anything less than their destruction. _Death. Death unto you all_.

She closed her eyes to stopper her tears, flopping her mirror face-down on her lap. Why hadn't her mirror showed her how badly it could turn for her? Why hadn't her mirror showed her how hurt she could feel? For all the good it did to let her see what the future had in store, why hadn't it showed her a way to prevent her from feeling the way she felt now, for being in the position she currently found herself in?

She was disheartened to find that even her mirror was limited in what it could show her.

Inhaling deeply, she brought her mirror back up and said, "Show me the girl. The one who's the cause of all this."

The silvery surface rippled, and Senna frowned as the image blacked out. "Where is she? Why won't you show me?" Sighing in frustration, she hugged the mirror to herself. _What could it mean?_ she wondered. Why hadn't her mirror been able to find the bane of her existence? That human girl that her former lover took as wife...how would the Goddess of Autumn be able to extract her vengeance when that girl could not be found? Under what kind of protection did the Death God place her in?

She started. The grand hallway of the white stone palace echoed with oncoming footsteps, and she composed herself, smoothing out her gown and wiping at her eyes. The God of Destruction came into view with a Butterfly Man in tow, the one who presumed to give himself the title of the _other_ God of Knowledge.

The Butterfly Men were another race of immortal beings who were born in the service of gods. They sprang from the black butterflies that acted as messengers, having evolved into a form with a higher consciousness and exhibited ambitions to become as the gods they served. One such had been called Aizen, who had trespassed so greatly as to kill the God of Foxes and Snakes, and by decree of the Spirit King through his own messenger, the God of Death had been sent to dispatch him.

Since that incident, if another Butterfly Man should spring forth from the black butterflies, he was immediately sentenced to death. However, this one, who was called Szayel, was allowed the chance to live by the actual God of Knowledge and Invention himself, simply out of curiosity.

With a smile, Szayel folded his wings into himself and bowed before Senna.

"How kind of you to visit such a humble one as me, O Goddess," he greeted.

"Spare us the niceties, Szayel," responded the Goddess of Autumn.

"As you wish," he said with a tilt of his head.

"The Lord God of Destruction spoke to you of what we came here for, did he not?"

"But of course."

"And have you the item?"

"But of course." With a languid wave of his hand, one of the buds hanging from his wing excreted onto his palm the device she asked for. "The cage, milady."

She began to reach for it, but he folded his fingers over the item and brought it up to his lips.

"Surely you don't think I would hand over something like this so easily, O Goddess?"

Her spine straightened as she stared at him haughtily. "You dare to bargain?"

"Such is the way of gods."

Grimmjow snorted, for once making his presence known. Sharp claws extended from his fingers and he blew on them, staring pointedly at the charlatan who dared to think he was one of them.

Szayel merely smiled at the obvious threat posed by the panther-god as he played sleight-of-hand with the object in his palm. "For a small fee, it is yours."

Huffing, Senna folded her arms. "What's your price?"

"The aftermath of its use." At her sudden guarded look, he laughed. "No need to fret. I do not seek to possess what you will be using this for, only to observe and learn. I seek only knowledge, and your use of this, I can already see, will be interesting indeed."

"And that's all you want?"

He genuflected with his head lowered, and replied, "I do not want to infringe upon the grace of gods, unlike my former kin. I have seen the power displayed by the gods against such a trespass, a trespass that even the Spirit King would involve himself in, and I have learned from it. I live only to appease my curiosity, and I am thankful to the God of Knowledge and Invention for granting me the right to live in such a way." Offering his hands out, he continued, "If my answer pleases you, and my request for this exchange is suitable, have we an accord, O Goddess?"

She could only give a begrudging nod in acceptance.

Grimmjow plucked the item from Szayel's palm.

"We take our leave now. You've been of great assistance, Szayel. I will send a message detailing the appointed day that we will be using this item."

"I am grateful, milady."

Turning, the Goddess of Autumn walked out of the pillared stone hall that was home to the Butterfly Man. Despite the power of the gods, however much he displayed his fear and awe to them, he still posed a great danger for having created the item that they now had in their grasp.

By her side, the God of Destruction walked. Held between his forefinger and thumb was a small box. Grimmjow stuck his tongue out as he perused the object. "You know, we should've gotten two of these. There are two of _them_, after all."

Senna grabbed it from his hold and began throwing it up in the air and catching it. "One is sufficient. It is simply for the one." Upon catching it once more, she asked, "You remember the plan, right?"

He rolled his eyes at her as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah."

"Everything depends on you."

"I know, I know," he replied flippantly.

She stepped in front of him and ran the item down his exposed abdomen. "You will have your revenge."

He took hold of her hand and pried the device from her fingers, giving her a large, feral grin, sunlight glinting on his canines. "Yes, and so will you," he said, and captured her lips in a bruising kiss.

* * *

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Moe Shishigawara - character from Bleach's Welcome to Our Xcution arc that took place after the 17-month time skip  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn (filler character from Bleach: Memories of Nobody movie)  
Grimmjow - God of Destruction  
Szayel - a Butterfly Man (evolved form of the black butterflies that gods use to send messages to each other); calls himself the _other_ God of Knowledge with permission from Urahara, the _actual_ God of Knowledge  
Aizen - a Butterfly Man who slew Gin, the God of Foxes and Snakes; executed by the Death God by order of the Spirit King  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World

Thanks for reading :)  
Dec/2011


	21. vacillate

A/N: I have to say that I never foresaw 2012 beginning in such a dry way for me writing-wise (especially in comparison with how 2011 began in regards to this fic). All these months have been a struggle actually just trying to write :/ I mean, I did get some stuff going in a couple of other fics, but man, just trying to reach my personal minimum word limit was a hassle *lol* Anywho, thanks for still sticking around, everyone!

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 21: Vacillate**

* * *

Lacking any type of self-control when it came to Orihime, Ichigo had gone to Karakura soon after he met her mother in Inuzuri, trying to convince himself that one glimpse of her was all he needed to put his heart at ease.

He scratched the back of his head, faltering in step by the river, biting at the inside of his mouth worriedly. This one day apart was vastly different from all the other times he'd had to leave to perform his duty as the God of Death; in all those times, he knew she was at home, safe and waiting, albeit ignorant. Now, he couldn't even begin to be sure of anything when it came to her. What would she find here? Something that would greatly incriminate him that would diminish all that she'd ever felt for him?

He ran his hand over the mask on his face, heaving a nervous sigh. From the beginning, all that seemed to define him was a severe lack of judgment.

Downstream, he found two boats docked by the sprawling roots of willow trees. They were the ornate boats that allowed gods to travel between worlds. The way they were docked so neatly parallel to each other indicated that there hadn't been any kind of skirmish. Puzzled, Ichigo extended his mind to seek out Orihime and whomever of the gods happened to accompany her. His frown deepened at having felt no trace of her, and he spread out his consciousness once again, briefly seeing something black flitting at the edge of his periphery that he marginally brushed off in his concentration. Clenching his fists with worry, he angrily swiped at the black thing fluttering in front of him, only then finally noticing the butterfly that had been weaving back and forth at his face, trying to get his attention. Releasing a frustrated breath, he nodded to the insect and curbed his impatience as it delivered its message.

_Mr Death, sir,_  
_Please rest assured that your bride is safe under the protection of your most humble servant, Urahara Kisuke, the God of Invention and Knowledge. As part of my penance in what ever wrongdoing I seem to have done against your person, please accept this guardianship as my act of contrition. I, of course, know nothing whatsoever about why you've permitted your bride to journey out into the mortal world alone despite your warnings to us about the harm that the Goddess of Autumn might bring her, but I've taken it upon myself to offer my meagre services in order to beseech your forgiveness. It is my wholehearted hope that you'll find comfort in whatever aid I could bestow._  
_Your most humble servant, nothing but a beggar to the grace of the fearsome Death God,_  
_Urahara Kisuke, the God of Invention and Knowledge_

Ichigo had felt a vein in his forehead throbbing, intensifying exponentially as he listened to Kisuke's message. But despite the extreme annoyance he felt, he had to concede the fact that the God of Knowledge and Invention was more than capable of protecting Orihime by himself, if it had to come to that. He could only come to the conclusion that perhaps the wily god had invented some sort of contraption that enabled their presences and their spirits to be masked.

Gently opening his hand, he released the butterfly and watch its departure toward the sky. A part of him felt relieved, and the other was encompassed by an insurmountable feeling of emptiness. At the back of his mind sprang a grain of fearsome thought that made his heart beat erratically inside his chest: perhaps she didn't need him as much as he needed her.

A sudden breeze whipped the drooping leaves of the willow trees, and seeking escape from the foreboding feeling that plagued him, in a swirl of white, he was gone.

* * *

Dusk had cast a mantle of grey and blue across the sky when she and the God of Invention and Knowledge arrived at the dock to the House of the God of Life.

On the balcony waited Rangiku as well as a black cat that jumped on to Kisuke's shoulder as he got off his boat.

"I got your message," said the cat in a deep, masculine voice that surprised Orihime. _It can talk_, she thought, blinking owlishly at the cat as she divested herself of the black cloak and handed it back to the god, giving him a nod in thanks.

The tow-headed god only smiled as he rubbed the back of the cat's head, murmuring into its ear that had it purring in return.

"So there you are!" exclaimed the Goddess of Love and Fertility, pulling the younger woman into her arms. "We were wondering where you'd gone off to. We couldn't feel your spiritual pressure at all here in this house, and the God of Life told us Ichigo had gone to the mortal world by himself. And then Yoruichi received a message through a black butterfly from Kisuke about how he was accompanying you in the mortal world." She pouted. "Why didn't you tell us you wanted to go there? We could've gone with you!"

"Er, it's..." Orihime shifted her eyes to the side, finding it hard to explain why she'd left.

On seeing her discomfort, the God of Knowledge and Invention piped in, "It's not that kind of excursion, Rangiku."

The goddess crossed her arms over her chest. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Settling someone's past need not be accompanied by an entourage."

"Settling the past?" And then it dawned on Rangiku. "Oh. Well. How are you feeling now, Orihime?"

"I'm okay, thank you."

"Oh, you." The goddess embraced her once more, and then immediately pushed her at arm's length. "I know just the thing to give you that would put a smile on your face."

Orihime coloured, remembering the last time the goddess had given her something. "No, that's not necessary, thank you. Really. I wouldn't want to impose."

"Oh, nonsense! There's nothing to worry about." She turned away, a finger on her chin as she thought. "I have some arrangements to make. Ooh! I need to contact the God of Beauty as well. Oh yes!" She faced Orihime again, her lips pursed, hooking her arm around the younger woman's elbow, and whispering, "I'll need for you to—what's the word I'm looking for?—" She snapped her fingers. "—_Soften_ up the Death God. After what he became yesterday, he should be more than contrite enough to succumb to you so easily."

The former human frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Charm and seduce him, of course, so you can get what you want."

"You mean, what _you_ want, Rangiku," interjected the cat drily.

"Well, whatever Orihime wants is what I want, right?"

"Er..."

"Oh, come now. Since he let you venture out into the mortal world today, he'd let you go out again tomorrow, right?"

"What for?"

"What do you mean 'what for?' Of course he'd let you go again."

"No, I meant, why would I go back there tomorrow?"

"Oh, to come with me and Rukia to my temple, of course."

"Your temple?"

"Yes."

"But I haven't agreed to this."

Rangiku pouted. "You mean you don't want to go?"

"I-it's not that—"

"So there's no problem then?"

"It's—"

"—Good. Now as I was saying, I might have the perfect mead—"

"Er, no, please, I'll go with you. I'll speak to the Death God, but just please, no mead."

"But it worked so well last time."

Orihime chuckled nervously. "And I thank you for that, but really, you've already been generous to me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Yes, thank you."

"I have chains and whips instead if you'd prefer those."

Puzzlement lay on Orihime's brow, the thought crossing her mind that those items seemed to be rather extreme just to coerce someone into giving his permission. "I'm not really sure what they'd be for, but thank you anyway."

"Oh, very well," conceded the blue-eyed goddess as she led the younger woman into the God of Life's house, leaving the God of Invention and Knowledge with the cat behind as they murmured amongst themselves. "I have to speak to Rukia, then, and finalize our plans for tomorrow. I absolutely cannot wait, and I'm sure my High Priest would appreciate me finally visiting him after these many days I've been away. Hmm... now, we'll have to get Renji and Shuuhei to come with us, and possibly Izuru, although it seems like he'd been avoiding me lately after what happened the other night when we were drinking..."

Orihime let the goddess's idle chatter drown out her thoughts, muttering noncommittal replies every now and then. Finding the distraction more than welcome, it was all she could do not to sink into the apprehension that threatened to overwhelm her, and more and more she wished to stop feeling the way she felt. Dread rumbled at the pit of her stomach as she wondered what she should say to the Death God when she would meet with him. Avoidance—while a very favourable recourse—would not be a fair action despite all that had been said and all that had happened.

On hearing the question in Rangiku's voice, she gave a nod, and then frowned, shaking herself to get back to the present, finding herself being led into a room with a huge bathing pool embedded on the floor.

She skidded to a stop, and Rangiku didn't even notice that she had, proceeding on and discarding her clothing on the way. Orihime could only watch, her cheeks heating up with embarrassment, as the goddess lowered herself onto the water with a nearly orgasmic sigh.

"Rukia should be joining us shortly," said Rangiku as she scooped up water with one hand and ran it down the length of the other arm all the way to her shoulder. "And Yoruichi as well if she and Kisuke are done talking amongst themselves." Her blue eyes brightened as a thought struck her, and she turned, expecting to find the younger woman beside her, only now realizing that she hadn't been followed by her charge who still stood by the door. "What are you doing over there? Come here. The water's nice and warm, and perfectly what you need after having had such a long day." On seeing Orihime's continued reluctance, she beckoned more gently, "I promise I didn't slip anything in the water."

The newly-made goddess coloured, chagrined at showing mistrust towards Rangiku. With slight hesitance, she pinned her hair up and doffed her own garments, spreading her hands to cover her breasts and crotch as she descended into the warm water of the pool.

"Still so shy," smirked Rangiku gently. "Relax, Orihime, I promise I won't bite. Come, sit beside me." She stretched her arms out, leaning her head back on the edge of the pool and closing her eyes.

Orihime stepped down and sat on the ledge that circled the pool's wall, drawing her knees up and hugging them. Her eyes roamed the domed ceiling, wandering over the colourful tiles depicting sunny skies and fluffy clouds. She extended her mind, feeling out the Death God's spiritual pressure, and nervously released a small sigh of relief when she couldn't feel his presence within the house. She lowered her head, her chin ducking into the water. Remembering his sad expression the last time she saw him that morning, she wondered if he still sported it. How would they be able to face each other now? Should all the things she had come to see as the truth now be seen as lies? But truly, having been a human once, how he'd treated her, how he'd manipulated events were all simply normal fare to expect from a god. Right?

Her head could run around in circles over the same thoughts over and over, but everything had happened, all of them had passed, and there was nothing she could do to change that. She blinked. _Change_... She had changed something, hadn't she? Back in the human world. The cemetery...the headstones...If she could call upon that power again, then she'd be able to—

_Stop!_ She shook her head, splashing water onto her arms. Thinking along those lines was dangerous. Deep inside, was that what she truly wished for? For all the things that had happened to simply be undone? But wouldn't it be irresponsible to use this newly discovered power in such a way? Even if she was a god now, to change the past so drastically so that none of this had ever happened, back further to the past so that Keigo had never said what he had said—even that was too much; she'd be breaching across a boundary that she knew better than to cross. Besides, maybe such a thing was impossible even for this power. There had to be a limit set somewhere.

And was her life now really all that horrible? Even now, she was forging new bonds, forming new friendships. She had a future to look forward to, a person to literally spend eternity with—were all these truly terrible? She should vanquish the guilt and resentment that had begun to build inside her heart and face a future surcease of them. She ought to be more resolute of her feelings. Exhaling deeply, she nodded to herself, her eyes now cleared of uncertainty and full of conviction. Since everything was now out in the open, she and the Death God could work through this rift in their relationship.

A piece of cake, everything should be easy now. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a moment before letting it loose. As her shoulders relaxed with the exhale, she felt lighter. She could face him now, without fear, without doubt, and with only a little bit of heartache left.

She would make her utterance of forgiving him from this morning the truth.

* * *

The waxing gibbous moon hung in the sky, heralding the coming full moon in just a little over five days' time. The Death God sat on the balcony rail, gazing up and trying not to contemplate what the state of the world would be like during that unprecedented day. He'd never literally handed his heart over to someone, and so could not even comprehend how it would be for him, though he could imagine being temporarily taken over by despair since the heart would be given to the God of Despair. He hoped Yuzu and Karin would not be alarmed if they should find something strange happening to the moon. It would only be for that one day, and since Ulquiorra said it would be a deathless day, that meant that he had no duties in the mortal world to perform.

A shooting star flared up in the sky and paused in its trajectory to wink at him. It was the messenger of the Sun God, and he gave it a wave in return, watching it resume its passage in the darkness.

Restlessness pervaded his being, and he rose from his perch to pace along the balcony. Having returned to his own house, its stillness and silence gave him a small amount of comfort, but barely held at bay his anxiety over Orihime. He wondered how she was now. Was she alright? How had her trip into the mortal world gone? How was she feeling about it? And about the two of them, where did they now stand?

He ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to see her, but too many things were working against him at the moment, and he knew his presence wouldn't be openly welcomed by the other gods because of his action yesterday.

But feeling this way was torturous, and he contemplated returning to his father's house, only to squash the thought down less than a second later. Them being in separate places like this, it would make it easier for Orihime, wouldn't it? She _had_ asked him for some time, and even if all she'd requested was just the one day, he was sure that more time apart was what was truly warranted after everything that had happened. And being in separate places would make the time apart easier, right?

Sighing, he slumped over the balcony rail. It wasn't an easy decision to come to, but it was the best he could think of. He could almost imagine Rukia's jeering tone in his head, calling him cowardly for this resolute avoidance. But it was done, the decision was made, and he would abide by it—a practice test in regaining a modicum of self-control when it came to Orihime.

But damn his heart and his whole self for missing her terribly.

* * *

Late into the night, Orihime watched the sky and wondered about her husband, gnawing worriedly at her lower lip as she waited for his return.

She had excused herself from the gods' nightly banquet and headed to her room, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment before standing back up again and staring at the moon in the sky. Once in a while she would make her way to the vanity set beside the bathing room and brush distractedly at her hair, reaching out with her mind for the one whose presence her heart sought, but she couldn't feel him, couldn't find him anywhere.

As the night began to grow into morning she felt a fluttering by her nose, and she started, only realizing that she had fallen asleep on a chair by the balcony doors. A small, black butterfly filled her vision and she remembered that it was what the gods used to send each other messages. She wasn't sure how exactly it worked, and she bit her lip as she opened her palm for it to perch on. Her sense of wonder was short-lived as she listened to the Death God's voice.

_Orihime,  
I'm very sorry about everything. For now, I think it's best that I leave you alone. You'll be safer there with everyone, and as long as you're with them, you can go wherever you want. At the moment, I don't think I can face you yet, and I hope you'll add it to the many things to forgive me for when the time comes. I love you.  
Ichigo_

Deflating against the back of the chair, she could only close her eyes to push the tears that had pooled over her lids. As the moon was ever in the sky, he had been such a constant presence in her life, and she now felt utterly bereft. She understood his decision over this; the same thought of avoiding each other had crossed her mind earlier. But she had known then that conquering her fear was the only recourse left, but it seemed as though he himself wasn't ready to face it.

Since coming to be with him, she had been mildly blissfully ignorant. Perhaps there was something in the God of Life's house that rendered all truths to be revealed, for it was only here that that bliss had become so rocky. Was it really only two nights ago that Ichigo first declared his love for her? The way the nights stretched to last longer than she was used to made it seem as though that utterance had happened a lifetime ago.

She rose from the chair and opened her hand to finally release the butterfly from her grip. She followed it outside, entranced as she watched its flight towards the sky. Beyond, the plump moon shone brightly, the Death God's heart displayed for all the world to see.

"I love you," she mouthed, staring directly at the moon, hoping her words could reach his heart. "Ichigo. Please come back to me."

Orihime wrapped her arms around herself as a cool breeze blew through the night, wishing it was his warmth that surrounded her. A strange sensation engulfed her, the leaves of the garden in front of her fluttering fast from the sudden gust of wind, then suddenly slowing to a stop, frozen in their movements. She tried to blink, but felt as though she was under water, every movement hindered by a crushing force even as she managed to finally close her eyes. Everything seemed to have come to a standstill.

A blinding light pierced through her eyelids for a short, painless moment, and she felt a soft touch to her forehead, and it was as though time returned to normal.

When Orihime opened her eyes, in front of her stood a young woman on four hooves with a horned skull perched on top of her head, a strange marking running across her nose from cheek to cheek, and a sweet smile gracing her lips.

"You must be the bride of death," said the woman as she stepped back to take a bow. "I am Neliel, the Goddess of Time. And Messenger of the Sun God."

* * *

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Isshin - God of Life  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Yoruichi - Goddess of Cats  
Neliel - Goddess of Time, Messenger of the Sun God  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World

Thanks for reading :)  
Apr/2012


	22. progress

A/N: To all the continuing and new readers, thanks very much!

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 22: Progress**

* * *

_Messenger of the Sun God_, Orihime repeated inside her head numbly, unable to keep her eyes from wandering to the four legs that pawed at the ground. She shook herself. Having seen such a similar form with the Death God, this really shouldn't be any different. But still, she couldn't help feeling disconcerted and curious, and wondered how it felt to have the lower half of the body to be much heavier and consisted of four legs instead of two. _Do her legs ever tangle up?_ she thought. Although she had to admit that having four feet would cover a greater distance when one was trying to get somewhere fast.

And then she realized she had stayed silent for too long. She looked up, feeling sheepish over the thoughts that had just gone through her mind, and met the goddess's eyes. "It's very nice to meet you. My name is Orihime."

The visitor straightened, a huge smile stretching her lips, and shook both of her hands. "Congratulations on your marriage and godhood, Orihime. I hope the transition into this new life is going well for you?"

Although her heart felt heavy, she put on a happy countenance. "Thank you very much, goddess. If it's not rude, may I ask what brings you here?"

Neliel shook her head, chuckling. "It's not rude at all. I bear a message: You are cordially invited to appear before the grace and eminence of the Sun God, the Spirit King."

Orihime felt her heart sink. _Already?_ she thought. She knew this day was coming, based on what she had been told, but she hadn't expected it to be this soon. She didn't want to leave knowing that she and the Death God weren't on good terms.

On seeing her expression, the Goddess of Time waved her hands and said in a comforting voice, "Not this minute. I have a number of tasks to perform here in the gods' realm, some arrangements to make and other gods to see."

"Oh." A sigh of relief issued from her chest, and she couldn't help clapping her hands together.

"It may take a few days."

"I see."

Neliel laughed, turning away. "I am not just going to whisk you off from your husband, you know. Formalities must be made and all. Although, for my purposes, I'm glad three out of the four gods of seasons are already here within the house of the God of Life, which means I just need to track one other."

"The gods of the seasons?"

"Yes. The God of Spring, the God of Winter, and the God of Summer are all convened here by the invitation of the God of Life to celebrate your marriage to the God of Death. The Goddess of Autumn, however, isn't invited, although I know where she is from my vantage point in the sky. All that's left is to visit her."

She faced Orihime, seeing many unspoken questions in her expression. Taking the bride of the Death God by the hand, she pointed to the south-eastern sky. "See that patch of darkness there? That's where my constellation was; it's where I usually stand in the night, and from there, I have a clear view of the realm of gods and know where everyone is. Down here, on the other hand, I have to rely on sensing spiritual energy to be able to locate anyone, just like everyone else." She sighed, releasing Orihime's hand. "Rest assured that I can only see, not hear. The dimension of the sky is too far even for the speed of sound. If there's one thing that I miss from here, it's hearing how everyone has been doing." She pursed her lips. "You can only interpret so much from watching."

Neliel cupped her cheeks and blew a raspberry. "Listen to me! Talking and talking. I'm sorry. It's just it's been a while since I've spoken to someone other than the dwellers of the sky. And I'm sure, since you're new to godhood, there are many things you don't know and are just curious about. If there's anything you'd like to know, please feel free to ask me."

"Thank you so much." Yet more questions arose in Orihime's mind at the goddess's invitation, and they all fought to be asked at once. She tried to curb them down and made an attempt at propriety, gesturing back to her chamber. "Would you like to take a seat and have something to eat or drink?"

"How kind of you! Yes, I'd like that."

Sensing the wishes foremost in Orihime's mind, the house of the God of Life complied, and two chairs and a table with refreshments materialized in front of the fireplace with its fire still unmoving in this strange dimension of timelessness. She tried not to stare at how Neliel folded all four of her legs so that she could sit in the chair, and just proceeded to pour tea for the both of them.

The visitor clapped her hands in delight as she gazed down at the fresh sliced fruits and the bowl of chocolate sauce, waiting until Orihime had sat down across from her before diving in to the feast.

"Mmm," she moaned. "I tell you, covering the distance between the sky and here really gives you an appetite."

Orihime laughed. She now lived in a place where impossible things could happen, and did occur regularly, but they still surprised her. She couldn't help wondering what it would be like to make such a journey.

"The next few days are going to be so busy for me," continued the goddess. "I need clouds, you see."

A dipped strawberry stopped halfway to her mouth. "Clouds?"

"Yes. Rain clouds to be exact." Neliel pursed her lips as she chewed thoughtfully. "And I need to speak to all of the season gods since they're the ones who schedule weather phenomena to see if they can spare me some for you to be able to go beyond."

"I see." There was that phrase again. _Go beyond_. If she should leave before she had a chance to speak with the Death God, she truly hoped the visit to the beyond wouldn't take too long. She couldn't bear the thought of being parted from Ichigo for a long time; their present situation was unbearable enough.

"I could take you up there myself, but...again, formalities to meet," said the goddess wryly. "Everyone's a stickler for it. And then I have to herd the clouds around to where they need to be. Ah, too much work for me." Her eyes widened, and she slammed her hands on the table as she rose, making Orihime jump. "Oh! I almost forgot my other tasks. I'm sorry to cut this visit short, Orihime." She walked over to where Orihime still sat and gave her hands a squeeze. "Thank you very much for the kindness and welcome, and it's very nice to meet you. We'll definitely see each other again soon."

She waved to her, and then snapped her fingers.

Orihime blinked and looked around. The fire in the hearth moved as normal, no longer frozen in time, providing warmth and dancing shadows once again. She was alone. Did she dream all that? She bit her lip and leaned back against the chair.

She quite liked Neliel; she might be a bit abrupt, but she was rather nice and jovial, and there was an air of youthfulness about her.

But her presence here brought about a sense of inevitability that Orihime wanted to keep at bay for as long as she possibly could. She really must find a way to get to the Death God, and it was one wish that the house of the God of Life wouldn't be able to fulfill. Maybe tomorrow, on the trip with the Goddess of Love and Fertility and the Goddess of Snow to the mortal world, she'd be able to find him. He was bound to be fulfilling his duty like usual, and she hoped that he'd find work near the goddess's temple.

She almost couldn't bear the way her heart burned with yearning for him.

* * *

With her mission in mind, the next day Orihime walked with an excited Rangiku toward the dock, the goddess dragging her along by the arm in a skipping gait. She couldn't help but be infected by Rangiku's enthusiasm; there was much about the world of gods that she still had yet to learn, and she had to admit that her curiosity was piqued as to how Rangiku performed her duties as the Goddess of Love and Fertility.

As they neared, they found that the Goddess of Snow and her husband were already waiting by the staircase that descended into the river.

"I'll be needing my easel, pigments, various-sized brushes, some parchments, and a roll of canvas," Rukia was saying to Renji as she listed the items with her fingers.

He frowned at her. "Why do you need all that? I thought you're just going to paint a wall?"

"I need to do some practice tests first before I try the final draft on the wall. Now go on." She shooed him off, and he sighed, rolling his neck as he went back to the house, giving them a nod as he passed them by.

They stopped beside Rukia, exchanging morning pleasantries and plans for the journey. As Orihime listened to the goddesses' chatter, she cocked her head to the side, wonder in her tone. "Oh, what will you painting, Rukia?"

"Me, of course," replied Rangiku in her stead, a hand on her chest and a giddy smile on her lips.

"Oh, so that's why you're so happy. It must be wonderful to have the Goddess of the Arts to paint a picture of you. It sounds like an amazing gift."

"It's actually my payment for the trade made between her and me," answered Rukia.

"A trade?" _Oh, that's right_, she thought. _That's how gods work with other gods, by giving of each other what ever is in their skills or power_. "What did you want to get for the trade?"

Rangiku piped up once more. "I supplied her with a mead that acts as a contraceptive, negating the power of the God of Life over her body while she is in his house. And in return, she gets to paint a picture of me in my temple, for all my followers to see."

Orihime thought about the goddess's answer, laying a hand against her still-flat belly. So the Goddess of Love also had the power to render someone infertile—at least, temporarily. She couldn't begrudge her friend in not wanting to get pregnant, but all the same, she couldn't help the mixed feeling in her chest when the same person's power caused her to become one.

Startled from her thoughts, Rangiku held her hand in both of hers. "And you'll be in the picture with me, won't you, Orihime?"

"Er..."

"It will be wonderful. The God of Beauty will be meeting us at my temple, and he will be beautifying us for the picture."

"But you're already beautiful—aah!"

The Goddess of Love and Fertility had pulled her into a tight hug, their breasts squeezed together. "Bless you, Orihime! You are so adorable!"

Rukia only shook her head with a smile, watching the other goddess's antics.

"And this will be the first time the rest of the world will find out about you!" continued Rangiku. "And it will be because of this that people will think that it is I, the Goddess of Love and Fertility, who caused the God of Death to fall in love and brought you two together."

"Rangiku," admonished a deep voice from above them, and the black cat from yesterday jumped down from the awning it had been standing in.

"What?"

"You know you shouldn't make up stories like that. Leave that to the Scribes."

"But isn't it a better story? And of course, it shows my absolute power over love—"

"Your love is physical love, erotic love," pointed out the cat.

"It's still _love_," dismissed Rangiku with a wave of her hand, wiggling her eyebrows with a smirk. "And we all know just how much those two have been exercising the physical aspect of it."

At that, Orihime couldn't help the crimson from shading up her cheeks.

"Oh, don't mind her," said the cat, landing on her shoulders and making itself comfortable.

She just nodded at it, a frown furrowing her brow on how familiar it seemed to act around them, although she couldn't remember if she had met it formally. It wasn't everyday that she met cats that talk.

"Um, if it's not too much trouble," Orihime began, "who are you again?"

All three looked at her incredulously, and she shrank back from the weight of their stares.

"I'm sorry! I just—"

"No need," said the cat, jumping down from her shoulder. "I suppose it's understandable that you've never seen me in this form before, until yesterday that is." The cat's form blurred, elongating, its spine curving up and out. The fur on its head lengthened and flared out into thick dark hair, and from where the cat used to stand there now knelt the dark-skinned Goddess of Cats. Naked, she straightened up to her full height, spreading her arms out. "Recognize me now?"

Orihime covered her mouth with her hands. "Yoruichi! I'm sorry, I—"

"No, I said it's okay. I know my voice also sounds different when I'm in that form, but it's easier to travel around in it." She began to transform once again, taking up her spot back on Orihime's shoulder once she finished.

The auburn-haired couldn't help wondering about the shapes that gods took. The Goddess of Cats obviously took on the form of a cat, but what about the God of Death and the Goddess of Time? Part of them still retained their human figures—was it because Neliel wasn't the goddess of four-legged creatures with horns and the Death God wasn't the god of creatures with claws? What was it about their power that made them take such a shape? Would the God of Knowledge and Invention know the reason, if there was one, behind this? Or should she just leave it as one of the ineffable mysteries of godhood?

"I hope the boat will be here soon," commented Yoruichi.

"So you are coming," said Rukia.

"Of course."

"What about Kisuke?"

"He's on his way."

"Oh, this boat ride will be such a wonderful party," exclaimed Rangiku, waving to several figures making their way towards them.

"Party, you say?" said Kyouraku with a delighted smile, his arm around the Goddess of Time. A scowling Goddess of Order walked behind them, followed by the God of Winter and the God of Spring. "Wonderful! There will be lots of drinking involved."

A growl of disapproval issued from Nanao's throat as she pushed her glasses up, the other gods greeting each other around her.

Orihime looked at Neliel's form, frowning. _Some things are missing_, she thought. She remembered meeting the goddess last night, but maybe being out of time changed a part of her memory. Concerned, she placed a hand on the goddess's shoulder. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Yes?" asked Neliel, puzzled.

"Your legs..." Orihime gestured behind Neliel, leaning close to whisper, "didn't you have four?"

Despite her low tone, she was still heard because the other gods—with the exception of Byakuya, Toushiro, and Nanao—erupted into guffaws.

Neliel looked behind her, an understanding smile stretching her lips. "Oh, it's for formalities. I have a number of transformations." She winked. "Besides, having two legs instead of four will leave more room in the boat."

Orihime couldn't help being surprised as she looked at everyone. "You're all coming with us to the mortal world?"

"No," the Goddess of Time shook her head. "We're just hitching a ride. I'm to hold a congregation with the gods of the seasons, and since Rangiku and Rukia were speaking of their trip last night, they kindly offered to take us to our destination along the way. I tell you, if I didn't have control over time, it would've taken me longer to make all the necessary arrangements for this assembly. I'm glad I was also able to find and speak with the Goddess of Autumn last night; we'll be picking her up en route to the meeting place."

At the mention of the Goddess of Autumn, Orihime couldn't help the apprehension that filled her. Senna—she who used to be her husband's lover, and who seemed to hate her and caused the plague to descend upon her village... She couldn't help the scenarios the played in her mind on how their first ever meeting would go.

Her worried gaze wandered, landing on a very annoyed Nanao, who watched the god with the pink, flamboyant flowered coat nuzzling the Goddess of Time's ear. She sidled up to her and peered at the display.

"Will you be joining us to the mortal world, Nanao?"

The bespectacled goddess glanced at Orihime, her eyes softening a bit. "No, I'm just here to make sure the God of Summer will actually be attending the meeting somewhat sober."

"Nanao, that's mean," whined Kyouraku, fixing her with a distressed stare. "I take my duties seriously, whether at the behest of the Spirit King through his Messenger or not. Isn't that right, Neliel?" He leaned his head on her shoulder, an exaggerated look of sadness on his face, and she patted him on the head.

Nanao just rolled her eyes at him and pointed to the river. "The sail barge is here."

It was a boat larger than the ones that Orihime had used before, obviously made for a group of passengers. It was grand, with plenty of seating areas and comfortable cushions lining them, and the gods immediately boarded and settled themselves as soon as it docked.

Two figures were already in it, the Scribe Hisagi, and another young man with blond hair and a somber expression who introduced himself as Izuru Kira. They held trays of goblets and wine bottles, going around and offering drinks to the passengers, with only Rangiku and Kyouraku heartily taking the offer with exclamations of happiness.

Just as the two gods' merriment began underway, Kisuke and Renji arrived, the latter carrying an armload of Rukia's art paraphernalia and looking rather put-upon, settling himself beside her but carefully setting aside the burden.

"I take it that this is everyone?" The God of Invention and Knowledge asked as he fanned himself. On seeing everyone's affirmation, he stomped twice on the boat's floor and it began to embark, and all the passengers waved to the lone figure of the Goddess of Order left on the dock.

Orihime's second journey back to the mortal world had begun.

* * *

APPENDIX

Neliel - Goddess of Time, Messenger of the Sun God  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World  
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Renji - formerly a Scribe (servant to the gods), now a god by association for marrying a goddess  
Yoruichi - Goddess of Cats  
Shunsui - God of Summer  
Nanao - Goddess of Order  
Toshiro - God of Winter  
Byakuya - God of the Night and Spring  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn  
Hisagi - a Scribe  
Izuru Kira - a Scribe  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Mystery Man (4) - God of Beauty

Thanks for reading :)  
May/2012


	23. measure

A/N: So in light of ffnet's enforcement of a certain rule, I've been squeezing out the lemons, so to speak, from this fic, and I have to say there was some enjoyment to be had from the process―mostly because it enabled me to try out some writing stuff I haven't done before, and it's also to see if the happenings in the fic would still make sense despite their removal. It certainly lost some of the oomph and pomp, but it's all done so that this fic can stay in this site. The full unedited original versions of those certain chapters can be found in my livejournal (link in my profile).

In other news, I went to an anime convention this summer and got to see Johnny Yong Bosch and Eyeshine! Pretty awesome XD (and I hope Funimation gets him and Stephanie Sheh to reprise their roles in the Eureka Seven AO dub).

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 23: Measure**

* * *

There was no horizon to look at, but what there was to see was the sublime infinity of the shining river that crossed worlds. At the bow she stood, wind blowing her auburn hair as the boat meandered steadily past rows of stone docks on either side that led to godly abodes.

She nursed a goblet of a fruity beverage against herself, thumbs tracing the rim trimmed with filigree, listening to the chatter surrounding her of which gods were fighting with each other, which gods were sleeping with each other, of whom had traded their services and what they had gained from it, of how long clouds usually took to condense in the air and where would one find particularly fluffy ones and how hard would it be to herd them...the last―a rhetorical one from the Goddess of Time aimed at nobody in particular―earned a look of puzzlement from Orihime but she kept her face forward.

_Is that really possible?_ she thought. _Are clouds like sheep?_ And then realized that of course, it would be possible to be able to touch clouds if one were a god.

With a sigh, she strolled the perimeter, one hand trailing on the rail while the other held her cup, and slowed as she reached the stern of the boat where the Goddess of Snow and the Arts sat with her legs drawn up, her drawing paper on her lap, a look of intense concentration upon her face as she looked up once in a while to the gods that sat across from her.

Timidly, Orihime peered over Rukia's shoulder, and gasped, her eyes darting from the page and onto the scene before them. She marvelled at how eerily identical the portrait was to the subjects. Upon the sheet were the gods carousing merrily, their expressions lively with their enjoyment and celebration of the visitation of the Goddess of Time. It took Orihime's breath away to see the details so uncanny in their resemblance―except for the rendition of the gods as rabbits. Or possibly bears. True to form though, the Goddess of Time was depicted as a horned sheep, complete with a fluffy behind.

With one last stroke of her paint brush, Rukia brandished her work of art over her head, inspecting it at arm's length. Looking behind her, she addressed Orihime, "What do you think?"

Orihime couldn't help clapping her hands in delight. "It looks wonderful, Rukia."

The Goddess of Snow preened with pride. "I hope Neliel likes it."

"I'm sure she will," reassured Orihime. "It looks absolutely adorable."

"Thank you." Rukia smiled, inscribing her signature on the corner with a flourish.

She took a sip from her goblet as she leaned back against the stern. "Rukia..."

The Goddess of Snow began to clean her brushes. "Hm?"

She opened her mouth a few times, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. "N-nothing. Sorry."

Rukia looked over her shoulder. "What's the matter?"

Orihime scratched the back of her head. "Ichigo...is he...um..."

Rukia sighed, a frown marring her features. "What did he do this time?"

Rounded eyes guiltily shifted away from her. "Nothing! I just...it's nothing."

The smaller woman rose from her seat and took Orihime by the shoulders. "I know he's an idiot, and he can only be forgiven so many times for any number of the stupid things he does. And I know he's committed them more than usual lately, so if by chance you feel as though you're having trouble keeping him in line, please don't hesitate to let me know and I will be more than happy to act as the fist that will strike him down."

Aghast, Orihime vigorously shook her head. "It-it's nothing like that. Please don't hurt him." She wrung her fingers together worriedly. "Please?"

With an exhale, Rukia sat back down and patted the space beside her. "Come and have a seat, Orihime. You know you can tell me anything that's bothering you, although I have to say that I can't promise how I'd react towards Ichigo."

Obediently, Orihime tentatively perched on the edge of the seat. "I'm just worried about him, that's all. The last few days haven't been easy..." she trailed off with a small deprecating chuckle.

"What do you mean?"

"I―" she swallowed, wincing at her suddenly parched throat, and downed the rest of the drink before placing the empty goblet beside her. "I-I finally learned why..."

"'Why?'" prompted Rukia.

"Why―how everything began. With me, I mean. Um, the marriage between me and the Death God, I mean."

"Oh."

"And about the Goddess of Autumn."

Rukia's lips tightened as she set aside the papers and brushes into the basket that Renji had procured for her earlier. "I see."

"I've seen how you and the other gods act at the mention of her, but I never realized or even thought just how everything connects together."

"..."

"Until yesterday morning."

"Are you worried about her coming here? That she would do something to you?"

Orihime turned to her. "To be honest, I don't really know how to feel about her."

Hands finally free from tidying up, Rukia crossed her arms. "Well, I personally don't trust her. When she was with Ichigo, we never really got along. We tolerated each other to an extent, but..."

"Yes?"

The eyes of the Goddess of Snow roamed the expanse of the boat as she thought. "You know by now that if a god requires the assistance of another god, they bargain with each other. I guess you could say that part of me didn't feel as though it was an equal trade between them."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"In a trade, we use our powers, or aspects of our powers. For example, between me and Rangiku: in exchange for the use of her power over fertility―or in this case temporary infertility―I'm going to be using my power over art. It's an equivalent exchange of power. But with Senna, she uses her body when she wants something, offering physical intimacies instead of her power."

"Oh."

"Gods _are_ free to use what ever they feel like in a trade, provided it was agreed upon by both parties. But all the same, I can't help but feel that there was a lack of honour to what she'd done."

"Do you hate her?"

"To be honest, 'hate' is too strong a word. But 'dislike immensely' is what I would go for."

Orihime scooted the rest of the way onto the seat in order to lean back against it, drawing her knees up to her chest. "If there's anything I do feel, it's that I feel bad over the fact that she must have been hurt herself because of all that had happened."

Rukia's lips twisted in a wry grin, releasing an exasperated sigh as she reached over and gently poked Orihime on the forehead. "You have a kind heart, Orihime. But I don't think that she would be grateful for your pity."

* * *

Her bare toes curled at the ground, weaving and mashing against the fallen leaves upon it. One hand held a basket while the other trailed against the trunks and leaves of the apple trees that graced the expansive orchard of the House of the Goddess of Autumn.

It was forever fall there. Everything was swathed in fallen leaves of glorious gold, brown, and red, and scattered here and there was the occasional hint of green. A slight breeze issued from her gait, and the sea of leaves parted to show her a path that led to her prized treasure, the greatest tree that bore the fruit that those who had had the pleasure of eating it had dubbed it the 'apple of truth' or the 'apple of knowledge' or the 'apple of beauty' or the 'apple of joy,' and Senna smiled.

At the unexpected summons from the Goddess of Time the night before, Senna had immediately set forth for her house. She couldn't say she was surprised at the message she was given―it was common knowledge for newly made gods to be invited up into the sky of the Sun God, and this hadn't been the first time she along with the other season gods have received a call from Neliel for an impromptu meeting.

The Goddess of Autumn reached up and plucked a plump golden apple from the tree, inspecting it for any imperfections before setting it into the basket. Reaching up again, she took a red apple, almost the colour of blood, and smiled before placing it beside the gold one. She harvested more of what she deemed as the best from the great tree in her orchard, giving a nod of satisfaction at the collection before flash-stepping her way straight to the dock of her house where the God of Destruction waited.

Setting the basket down on the top step, she sat beside his languishing panther-form and scratched behind his ear.

"Are you coming?" she asked.

He snorted. "I'm not invited."

"Then why are you here? To see me off to my doom?" she remarked jokingly. "Don't tell me you're worried about me."

"You assume too much," he jeered.

"Oh, you." She couldn't help laughing, muffling it through his fur. Subsiding, she leaned her cheek on his warm back. "Nothing will waylay us from our plan. You can rest assured they'll not try anything to me, not while the Messenger of the Sun God is there." She felt him tense beneath her, her heart skipping a beat at the reaction even as he tried to hide it by forcing himself to relax. Pretending as though it hadn't happened, she continued, "To offend her is tantamount to offending the Spirit King himself. And as I am her guest, to cause harm to me is akin to causing harm to her, thereby inviting the wrath of the Spirit King."

After a few seconds in which he uttered no reply, she asked in a subdued voice, "Why didn't you just greet her last night when she visited?"

Grimmjow rolled his head to give her a bleak stare. _Mind your own business_, his eyes seemed to say before turning back to watch the river. After a fashion, he replied gruffly, "There's nothing for us to talk about, and pleasantries aren't my thing."

"You still harbour affection for Neliel?" she pressed in a noncommittal tone.

At the mention of the Goddess of Time's name, he pounced away from under her, jostling her from her perch as he jumped to restlessly pace back and forth behind her. "What we had ended a long time ago," he responded in a clipped voice.

Straightening herself back on her previous spot, she smoothed her garments and reached for the basket to make sure the apples were unharmed. Despite the danger the pursuit of this line of questioning presented, she couldn't help prodding further. "But you miss her, don't you?"

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, feeling as though any second now he would swipe those great claws of his right at her jugular. _Why can't I stop?_ she asked herself. A deprecating grin stretched the corners of her mouth. _A death wish, perhaps_, she thought. At the feel of his breath against her neck she came to the realization that his sharp fangs could just as easily do the job, and she couldn't help swallowing nervously.

"What's there to miss? She's always around," he growled softly, but with an edge of malice. "I just have to look up into the sky to see her."

"But she's unreachable. Untouchable."

She felt his jaws encase her neck, a sharp pain piercing her, and all she could utter was a strangled gasp. She felt the trickle of blood flow out, and then there was the roughness of his tongue upon the wound as he lapped at the ruby drops.

The pressure on her neck eased as he backed away and she gingerly touched the sore spot, her fingers coming away dry. Her wound had closed up.

"And you think I should do something about it?" he said, a fog of moisture covering her neck as he breathed behind her.

"I..."

His head turned sharply as he spied the oncoming boat drifting down the river. His eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he swiftly turned and pounced out of sight.

At the bow stood the subject of their conversation, merrily waving with a huge smile on her face as the boat smoothly alighted beside the stone stairs. Senna stood, wiping her face of any expression but an answering smile, grabbed the basket with one hand while taking the proffered hand of a Scribe with the other, and boarded the boat.

She presented a countenance courteous and friendly as she greeted the Goddess of Time, an arm held out for an embrace and the kissing of cheeks, reaching into her basket to present a golden apple to Neliel.

The Messenger clapped and giggled with delight, and graciously took the gift, her eyes darting behind Senna's shoulder, trying to peer through the white columns and the colourful trees of the House of the Goddess of Autumn. "Was that Grimmjow just now?"

Senna turned her head, a white feline speck ghosting along the edge of her vision. "Yes, it was," she responded as she faced Neliel again.

The Goddess of Time cupped the apple with both hands and heaved a deep sigh. "Are you happy with him?"

"What's not to be happy about?" The Goddess of Autumn tilted her head to the side. "It's open between us, if that puts your mind at ease."

Neliel directed a small smile towards her before glancing back to the receding dock, spying her former lover camouflaged upon the white gable of the sheltered balcony, and gave him a short nod of acknowledgment. "What was that saying?" she whispered. "'First loves never die.'"

"Did you say something?"

The Goddess of Time shook her head and tucked an arm on Senna's elbow. "Come then, let's see the rest of our peers."

Directed to the middle of the boat, she greeted the carousing God of Summer, the Goddess of Love and Fertility, the God of Invention and Knowledge, and the Goddess of Cats, and handed each of them an apple from her basket, being careful not to get splashed by the contents of the goblets they clinked happily and obliviously together as they greeted back. A harangued-looking Scribe with a jug of wine in his hands gave her a courteous bow as he stood close to the quaffing gods. On a seat on the starboard side sat the God of Spring, his eyes briefly flickering up to her in greeting and to the apple she placed beside him before returning to his book. A little ways behind him sat the God of Winter, eyebrows knotted in concentration as he examined a scroll before him, reaching down to dip his quill on the inkwell beside him as he made notes back on the parchment, looking up only to give her a nod as they passed by, catching the apple she tossed to him without looking up.

And at last she found herself face to face with the bane of her existence as she and Neliel reached the stern, who'd stood up as they drew close, and gave her a deep bow with her eyes cast down, while the Goddess of Snow remained seated and gave her a pointed stare.

"Rukia," she greeted warmly.

"Senna." There was an almost palpable tinge of ice as the Goddess of Snow greeted back.

Neliel gestured to the newly-made goddess. "This is Orihime, Ichigo's wife as I'm sure you know."

She released a small chuckle. "How could I not, when it's the talk of all the gods?" She reached out and tilted Orihime's chin up with a finger, finally meeting her eyes, morbidly pleased to see Rukia tense up at her action.

Senna couldn't help but feel as though she was a wolf who'd ensnared a helpless little sheep as she gazed into the round eyes of the former human. But she knew all too well that Orihime was far from helpless; nearly all the gods in the boat were on the side of the Death God and they would wreak judgment down upon her should she make a wrong move. It was only the presence of the Messenger of the Sun God that prevented the stifling pressure in the air from suffocating them all.

Retracting her hand, she reached down into the basket that hung on her elbow and procured from it the blood-red apple. "My wedding gift," she offered.

Hesitantly, Orihime accepted the apple with both hands. "I―thank you, goddess."

Senna bowed her own head in response, her orange eyes expectant.

Eyes huge and worried, Orihime gazed back at her.

"Will you not try out my gift to see if it's to your liking?"

Rukia finally stood and grabbed Orihime's wrist.

The Goddess of Autumn turned to the Goddess of Snow, an eyebrow quirked up in amusement. "What's the matter, Rukia? You think it's poisoned?"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"Rukia, that's mean," admonished Neliel.

"I'm sorry if it offends you, Neliel. But I don't trust Senna."

"You know very well there's only one who has power over death," countered the Goddess of Autumn. "So there's no need for me to stoop so low. Besides, I'm offering the apple as a gift symbolizing many things, Rukia. Among them is my wish for amends. To have what has happened in the past to stay there." She turned to Orihime. "Do you not agree? All of this has been a fresh start for you, is it not?" A small chuckle escaped her. "You might say that, true to my function as a god of change and the rebirth of the natural world, I was the catalyst for your life's transformation. Of course, I'm not going so far as to imply you owe me your gratitude at gaining so elevated a status... And so, dear bride of death, will you not accept my token of friendship?"

Watching her former lover's wife, Senna had to admit that a minuscule grain of pride swept over her at the directness that permeated Orihime's gaze, washing away the worry and uncertainty, and in their place was trust, whole and unconditional. The challenge she'd presented was accepted, and inside she smiled at the helplessness invading Rukia's tone as she murmured Orihime's name, her head shaking and her hand falling away from her hold on the former human's wrist.

With both hands raising the fruit up to her lips, Orihime bit into the apple.

* * *

APPENDIX

Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Neliel - Goddess of Time, Messenger of the Sun God  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn  
Grimmjow - God of Destruction  
Shunsui - God of Summer  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Yoruichi - Goddess of Cats  
Hisagi - a Scribe (servant to the gods)  
Kira - another Scribe  
Byakuya - God of the Night and Spring  
Toshiro - God of Winter

Thanks for reading :)  
Oct/2012


	24. grasp

A/N: Happy Anniversary to this fic (on Dec 31)! Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!  
Thanks very much for reading/reviewing/subscribing/favouriting.  
Hopefully 2013 will produce more chapters and inspiration for this fic, certainly more than 2012 had (probably not 2011's record of 19 chapters though)

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Chapter 24: Grasp**

* * *

The apple was crisp, sweet; the juices bursting with flavour as it filled her mouth. The crunch of the fruit as she chewed added to the joy that filled her as she ate. Bite after bite made Orihime feel as though her mind was filled with all the truths the world could hold, all the knowledge, all the joy, and all the beauty, and she felt as though she couldn't get enough—that one apple simply wasn't enough. If she couldn't have another one, she wanted to savour, to save what was left for a later time.

There was only a quarter of the red apple left by the time she stopped, and only then did she notice the rapt spectators surrounding her. Crimson coloured her cheeks as the thought came that she might have seemed like such a glutton in devouring nearly a whole apple in what seemed like mere seconds. Rukia stood beside her, uncustomarily gnawing at her lower lip, while in front of her both Senna and Neliel watched curiously.

"How do you feel?" asked the Goddess of Snow. "Are you alright?"

Still chewing, Orihime could only give her a nod in reply.

Rukia sent the Goddess of Autumn a venomous look. Noticing this, Senna simply sent her a sweet smile.

"It's not poisoned, see?" she said mockingly.

Rukia curled her hands into fists. "It might take its effect later."

Swallowing finally, Orihime placed a hand on Rukia's arm as an attempt to comfort her and to stay her from lunging at the other goddess. "It's very good," commented the auburn-haired to the giver of the fruit.

Turning to the bride of her former lover, Senna inquired, "And what is that apple to you?"

Orihime tilted her head to the side, puzzled. "Pardon?"

"Is it of joy?" elaborated Neliel, excited, almost bouncing on her feet, seeing that the situation seemed to be under control. "Mine always tastes of joy. It's a very good feeling."

Orihime nodded, thinking. "It is of joy, but more of truth. It tasted like what the colour blue would taste like..." Realizing what she said, she sank back. "I-if it had a taste."

The Goddess of Time clasped her hands together. "Blue! Oh I wish I'd gotten that red one instead. The golden apples taste like purple."

Even Rukia couldn't help laughing at that, though the worry hadn't dissipated from her eyes.

"Will you not finish the apple now?" asked Senna, and for a brief moment, Orihime thought she detected a hint of malice and impatience on the goddess's face. But perhaps it was merely a trick of the reflection of the bright sunlight on water.

The auburn-haired clasped the fruit as though cradling something precious. "It's so delicious that I want to savour it and taste it again later. W-will that be alright?"

"Oh." Taken back, a part of Senna was pleased at this unexpected reaction. But she pressed on nevertheless. "Are you sure you will not be swayed from this decision?"

There was something in the Autumn Goddess's voice that raised an alarm in her head, and Orihime realized with a sense of familiarity that it was the same kind of compulsion that used to overtake her whenever Rukia or Rangiku commanded her to do something. With a start, she came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the last residual pieces of her humanity, being able to feel this and identify it for what it was. Now, being of equal status to the other gods, she had the free will to disobey that compulsion.

"Why are you so keen on getting her to finish it right now?" asked Rukia suspiciously. "You did put something in it, didn't you?"

"Rukia!" exclaimed Neliel, her lips pursed in disappointment.

Senna laughed, waving her hand in the air. "Ah, don't mind me. It's just, as the one who'd given that gift, of course it stands to reason that I would like to see it enjoyed so thoroughly, is it not? Ah, well, it is enough to see that you managed to eat most of it and are planning to continue it later. I have trust in your word, bride of Death, and I'm very glad you found satisfaction in my gift. And you don't need to worry: even half-eaten, that fruit will keep its freshness and will not brown as the day passes." Turning to the Goddess of Snow, she held out a green apple. "I don't suppose you'd care for one?"

"Do you even need to ask?" countered Rukia coldly.

Senna only chuckled, returning the fruit to her basket. "Suit yourself."

Neliel released a deep exhale. "Well, now that the pleasantries are done, shall we catch up with each other, Senna?"

"If it pleases you. I'm sure there's a particular god you would like to speak to me about."

At this, the green-haired woman blushed, and with a smile and a nod to Orihime and Rukia, the Goddess of Time led her guest to the port-side chairs, both settling themselves down and chattering away.

Deflated, Rukia flopped heavily back down on her seat.

Worriedly, the auburn-haired touched her arm. "Are you alright?"

"I should ask you that."

Orihime looked at what remained of the apple in her hands. "I'm really okay, Rukia. Thank you, though, for being so caring." She squeezed the Snow Goddess's arm gently when she made to retort, stopping the dark-haired woman as she explained herself. "I know—I know that my life drastically changed because of her...But I know that she was only one of the causes, not the entirety of it. And I—what she said about new starts...that's what I've been trying to do. And I've resolved to let go of my worries, of things that bother me, and to work through my relationship with Ichigo. Because right now that's more important to me. And this apple—she said it is a symbol of that new start. For all of us. As I've put my trust in my new family and my new friends, I am also putting my trust in her good intentions."

Rubbing her face with her hands, Rukia released an exasperated exhale, not able to voice out her own thoughts on the matter. A shadowy figure suddenly took hold of Orihime's shoulders, startling them both.

"Ah, madam!" exclaimed Urahara. "Will you be so kind as to oblige me?"

"Don't sneak up on her like that!" admonished the Snow Goddess.

"Eh?" Orihime turned her head. "What is it?"

Kisuke held out a hand, indicating for her to precede him, and after giving a small nod to Rukia, she followed his direction.

The God of Knowledge and Invention leaned conspiratorially close to her ear, covering his mouth with his fan as they walked. "I hope you don't mind, but I've taken it upon myself to educate you in the ways of godhood."

"Eh? Oh, that's very nice of you—"

"I only endeavour to aim to help out the Death God and his family in any way I can."

"Thank you very much but—"

"And here we are!"

The god had led her to where the husband of the Snow Goddess sat, who was quietly polishing a sword in a corner. The redhead raised his head when they drew near, eyebrows raised in question.

"Renji will be your teacher."

"What?"

"Eh?"

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

"What's going on?"

"But I thought you were—"

"Oh please, please. I am flattered you thought so highly of me, but in this instance, Renji here is the better educator. After all, he is also a newly-made god, and therefore can tell you things I would have no knowledge of." Grinning widely, the towheaded god snapped his fan closed. "Well, then, I'll leave you two to it."

Setting down the weapon, Renji watched the god walk away. "What's going on?" he repeated his earlier question.

"Um, he said he'll teach me about godhood, but he just said now that you'll be doing it."

"What the hell?"

"I'm sorry."

"No," he waved. "Don't apologize. That guy, seriously." Sighing, he indicated the seat next to him, scratching his forehead as he thought.

Lowering herself, she looked at him expectantly, hands nearly squeezing the apple she still held.

"Teach you about godhood..." he began. "To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure how to go about this, where to start or anything."

"I'm not sure, either."

After drumming his hands on his lap, he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Well, um, is there anything in particular you'd like to know, or you're worried about?"

Orihime's brows furrowed as she thought and said the first thing that popped into her head. "Um, what kind of power do you have?"

"Me?" Surprised, Renji merely shrugged. "Just the usual, nothing special, really."

"You mean you can also change broken things back to the way they were like they've never been broken at all?"

He frowned, his narrowed eyes narrowing further. "...No, nothing like that. I can flash-step."

"Flash-step?"

"Yeah. You know, being able to travel a great distance with just one step, or even to just quickly move from one side of the room to another in a single bound. All gods can do it."

"Oh." She bit her lip, picturing in her mind where she could have seen that, and concluded that she had witnessed Ichigo do it at least once or twice. "I don't think I can do that."

"Huh. Well." He coughed, looking up at the sky as he thought about something to say. "Maybe not now, but someday you'll be able to."

Her eyes brightened as she voiced out her realization. "Perhaps it's because I haven't tried it yet?"

"That could be."

"I mean, the other times, the power...um, _things_ just happened without me meaning them to."

His tattooed eyebrows rose, and he couldn't help feeling at a loss and simply settled for a nod in response. He remembered the incident just two days ago, of her spiritual pressure seeming to have disappeared, where everyone was unable to sense her, a cause drastic enough for the Death God to threaten to kill a Scribe in front of the other gods in his father's hall, no less.

And then he recalled how it had been like for him when he first became a god, after getting over being sick from the concoction that changed him that had been made by Urahara. "Sometimes, that's how they start out," he offered. "Sometimes you think, 'if only I can do this,' and then _poof_, it happens. You have to learn what it is first, though, before you can control it. You need to understand its nature, it essence, and using the power over and over helps you in reaching this understanding. Really, it's just like any skill that, if you do it enough times, you can master."

"I guess this means I need to remember how it felt. The power I mean."

"Yeah. Or even how you were feeling just before it happened."

Pursing her lips, Orihime thought back to the evening in the library. There was a lot of fear, resignation, and even resistance to that resignation. She wanted to be protected. She wanted to keep at bay the one that was causing her to fear. And then she'd felt a warm, golden glow come from within herself, and it felt as though it was a shield.

And yesterday, when she was at the Karakura cemetery witnessing the destruction of the headstones...something had come from inside her, another warm, golden glow that had fixed everything that had been shattered. The only thing she could remember that could tie these two events together would be her feeling of desperation. But surely, in order for her to access those powers, there had to be some other way? She couldn't just wait for another moment when all she was left with was urgent despair, could she?

The silence continued, not quite uncomfortable, and in an effort to learn more about godhood, she asked, "Are you a god of anything?"

Renji shook his head. "No. I haven't picked anything yet."

Interest piqued, she tilted her head to side as she questioned, "You get to choose on what to be a god of? I don't understand."

"Well...how should I put this?" The redhead rubbed his chin as he thought. "Gods who are born as gods, their powers are already predetermined. Sometimes, if they feel like they could take on another duty, they choose to oversee two or more things. Like Rukia and Ichigo, for example. Rukia is originally only the Goddess of Snow. But since she's really good at drawing, she decided to also be the Goddess of the Arts. With Ichigo, he was born with the power of the Death God, although it didn't manifest until after his sisters were born. He became the God of the Moon later, when he first took his heart out and placed it in the sky. Really, as long as nobody else presides over something, then it's okay for them to pick another."

"I see. So, are you going to become the God of Flash-steps?"

A rueful grin stretched the corner of his lip. "No. That title is informally held by Yoruichi, I believe."

"Oh."

"With us, we're only gods who became gods through association. Marrying a god entitles us to godhood, but we're not required to be gods of anything. The power or powers we get doesn't really have anything relatable to preside over. It's random, really. Maybe the god who made the potion added something to it that gave us what ever kind of power we ended up receiving. Maybe we already have something in ourselves, in our bodies or hearts or minds, that the potion merely enhanced. I can't really say much about this as I don't have much knowledge in how a god is created.

"In any case, what this boils down to for us is choice. Since we're not born with powers, only granted them, we can _choose_ to be a god of something. For example, I can choose to become the God of Baboons and Snakes just because I happen to like those animals, but I don't _have_ to be. I'm certainly not required to be just because I happen to favour them. And they don't really need gods anyway, so me presiding over them wouldn't really be much work.

"With your powers, the more you learn about it, the more you can decide for yourself how useful it can or can't be. It's really up to you. From what you've said about fixing things that had been broken, maybe you can be that kind of goddess, if you want."

Orihime's mind churned as she struggled with the information she had just been given, but couldn't help smiling as she remarked, "Hmm, being called the 'Goddess of Fixing Broken Things' doesn't quite have the ring to it, don't you think?"

He threw back his head and laughed. "Well, I'm sure it can be shortened to something much more elegant."

Ducking her head, she gave the redhead a warm, grateful smile. "Thank you, Renji, for your help."

Embarrassed, Renji scratched the back of his head as he tried to keep his blushing to a minimum. "I wasn't really much of a help."

"No, I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me about this, even though you've been made to by the God of Knowledge and Invention."

"No, it's alright. I guess, being in the same situation as you, I really am the one qualified to talk to about this. So, um, I appreciate your thanks, even though I feel like I didn't really help much."

A silence enveloped them for a space of a few seconds that was broken by a loud grumble that issued from her stomach. Embarrassed, she rubbed her belly, peeking at him from under her bangs. "Sorry."

He just sent her an answering grin. "It happens. Don't worry about it. Besides, you're eating for two now."

A small smile stretched her lips. "Yes."

He tapped his knee as he shook his head. "I gotta say, though, that facing all those years in that condition...man, I can't even really imagine that, even though I've lived for a really long time."

Orihime let out a chuckle, then frowned. "I'm sorry...you said 'years.' What do you mean?"

"Hmm? Oh. The pregnancy."

She couldn't help giggling and shaking her head. "I think you mean 'months.'"

Biting his lip, Renji scratched his temple. "Well...I suppose, since a year does consist of months. But it's easier to say 'one-hundred years' than saying 'one-thousand-two-hundred months.'"

Orihime's smile froze, and she could swear she felt her heart cease its beating inside her chest just now. She was so still, the only thing that moved were her eyelids as she blinked in disbelief. "Eh?"

Noticing her present state of frozenness, Renji couldn't help but gulp loudly, feeling as though he was suddenly treading on dangerous ground as he elaborated, "I don't suppose anybody told you that a goddess's pregnancy lasts for a century...?"

Feeling as though the breath had been knocked out of her, her jaw fell slack as her mind tried to wrap itself around this new piece of information. "I...I think I need to sit down." She frowned, through her numbness starting to notice her suddenly trembling legs. "I'm already sitting, aren't I?"

The redhead could only nod out of nervousness.

"Oh." Hysterical laughter began to bubble out of her even as tears sprang in her eyes. "Shouldn't it just be nine months?"

For lack of anything else to do in this kind of situation, Renji reached over and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "A-a g-god's body is d-different than a human's," he stammered.

"But it's so long."

"Er...um...yeah..."

"Why?"

"...I d-don't really know. I'm not really the person with that kind of knowledge."

"And everybody knows that it's that long."

He had to swallow the huge lump in his throat before he could respond. "Everybody who's a god."

Her lips trembled as she imparted, "I've only lived for eighteen years, and now I'm going to be pregnant for a hundred."

"...er...I-I'm sorry about that...?"

"I'll be pregnant for a longer time than I've lived."

"...um..."

"That's...twisted, isn't it?"

"I-I guess."

"It doesn't even make sense."

"I-I suppose n-not."

She burst into tears.

Renji jumped out of his seat and reached out but stopped himself from taking hold of her shoulders out of fear and anxiety. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I swear!" He looked around, growing frantic at the sudden situation he found himself in where minutes before everything had been calm and friendly. For lack of anything else, he yelped, "Help! Help!"

In a flash, the two were immediately surrounded by the other passengers of the boat.

"What's going on?"

"Renji, what have you done?"

"It wasn't me, really!"

"Oh, my dear. Here, cry into my bosom."

"Tsk-tsk. She should cry in my manly chest instead."

"Why is she crying?"

"Is something the matter?"

"Renji!"

"I didn't do anything, I swear!"

* * *

APPENDIX

Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn  
Neliel - Goddess of Time, Messenger of the Sun God  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Renji - formerly a Scribe (servant to the gods), now a god by association for marrying a goddess  
Yoruichi - Goddess of Cats (and Flash-Steps)  
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god; possibly the newly-made Goddess of Fixing Broken Things (?) (just kidding ;P )

Thanks for reading :)  
Dec/2012


	25. bygone

**Chapter 25: Bygone**

* * *

Watching the scene before her, Senna couldn't help gritting her teeth. Just the way the other gods fawn over this newcomer, offering their support and comfort—when that very person was the source of her own discontentment. It grated her to the very core, and she felt ignored and abandoned, discarded in much the same way the Death God had treated her.

She forced her cheeks to soften into a gentle smile, offering her own murmurs of concern for the tearful bride of her former lover, noting the still half-eaten apple in the auburn-haired's grasp. Should the bride renege on her promise to finish it, Senna was content that her gift had been accepted, more than satisfied that it had been partly consumed. She had other things to concentrate on, after all.

_Soon_, she thought, remembering what she had seen and heard through her magic mirror that seeded the idea of a plan in her mind. _That day is coming. No regrets and no turning back, right, Grimmjow?_

As the Goddess of Love and Fertility comforted the young woman, the crowd around them dispersed, Senna and Neliel returning to their previous spot.

"So, shall I speak to him for you?" asked the Goddess of Autumn, picking up their interrupted conversation where they had left off.

"Hmm?" Startled, the Goddess of Time gave her a wide-eyed look, half hopeful and half trapped. "Eh, I don't know. As you can see, even after thousands of years, Grimmjow still hasn't forgiven me for leaving him."

"You know that even _he_ could not refuse a mandate from the Spirit King himself."

"I know."

"It's just not realistic for him to expect you to turn down a divine command."

"I know." Pursing her lips, the green-haired goddess reached up and tenderly ran her fingers through Senna's hair. "Being promoted to become the Messenger of the Sun God is a great honour that's bestowed to no one else, and there's no such thing as denying the Spirit King, otherwise we'll be calling forth our own demise. Is it selfish, do you think? Choosing to live so that I can still see him, watch him from above, even if we can't reach each other any longer? Even knowing he hates me for choosing duty over happiness?"

Senna reached up and held Neliel's hand in both her own. "It's an entrapment you can't escape from. You were faced with the option of either ceasing to exist altogether or remaining alive, you made the decision because at least, even when you're apart, like you said you can still see him whenever you want to."

"Do you love him?" asked the Goddess of Time, tone unreadable.

The purple-haired goddess sat back, hands still clasping Neliel's dropping to her lap. "What we have is a partnership; we have a mutual goal. We trust each other. Scorned woman as I am, others would likely see him as my rebound relationship. Do I love him? Do we love each other? I suppose you could say there's plenty of passion between us. Plenty of desire. Complex and unmitigated, and yet so simple and base and animalistic."

She let out a laugh, remembering his bite earlier that could have easily crushed her jugular.

_We're using each other, Neliel. Is that what you want to know? What you had with him millennia ago isn't what we have. Grimmjow and I can never have that. That's not what's driving us together. I suppose you'll see for yourself soon why we have come to be together. But, perhaps, before everything happens to the point where they cannot unhappen, I can give you_—

"Do you love him, Neliel?"

"Huh?"

"The Goddess of Love and Fertility is here. Perhaps you can strike a bargain with her for an aphrodisiac or a love philtre?"

"W-what?" Flabbergasted, the Goddess of Time stammered, retracting her hand from Senna's hold, unable to find words to voice protest or disbelief.

"To seduce Grimmjow—"

"—S-surely you jest, Senna—"

"At least something to make him stop avoiding you, make him sit still enough for him to listen to what you have to say."

"—Please—"

"Who knows when you'll have the chance again?"

In the other woman's eyes, Senna read hopefulness warring with desperation, fierce longing, fear—indubitable love and the desire for a reunion mixing with fright that even should this uncompromising impasse between her and her former lover could temporarily be bridged, his hatred for her would grow; he would find such an act to be beyond iniquitous that his forgiveness would forever be out of her reach.

The Goddess of Time closed her eyes, willed the arrhythmic tattoo of her heart to slow and steady down. _Must Senna tempt me so?_ she asked herself. All these long years she had contented herself with serving the Spirit King, keeping her own feelings buried, simply become an automaton bound by duty and kept any thoughts of her former life and former love at a bare minimum. Now that she was back in the world the other gods resided in for an extra numbers of days, perhaps taking Senna's suggestion would be worthwhile. At least this time she could make the attempt to communicate with him. At least this time would be a change from the usual avoidance. Another thousand years, another million years...how much longer could she stand it? Should she dare?

Neliel had to admit that seeing the union between Senna and Grimmjow from her place in the sky had hurt at first, just as watching him spread his love thoughtlessly and carelessly all other times with a slew of different partners had hurt, yet she couldn't find herself looking away, considering being able to see him intimate with others as he used to be with her a kind of punishment, torturous wounds upon her heart that had lasted for so long that sometimes she felt as though it had become inexorably intertwined with her whole being.

"Please," whispered the green-haired goddess, softly, lacking conviction, lacking emotion. Even she couldn't tell whether it was an utterance of consent or surrender.

Orange eyes ran over her features, weighing the word. After seconds that lasted eternity those eyes finally released her, Senna bowing her head in acquiescence.

"As you wish, Neliel."

* * *

Orihime wondered if it was petulant to speculate if she was still dreaming everything that had been happening to her. Some time had passed, and the tear tracks down her cheeks had grown stiff and dry, and she heaved a tired exhale. With all the things she had been discovering, wouldn't it have been better, more comforting, that she had learned them from her husband himself? It seemed that lately there had been nothing between them but a rift that together they would repair only for it to come between them once again.

_One hundred years_, she thought. _I'll be pregnant for that long_. It was an unfathomable number; a number that, even when she was alive, was beyond comprehension because no human had ever lived that long.

She felt a pang in her chest, acute with sharp longing for something she could never have again.

_What am I going to do, Tatsuki? What would Sora say? How am I supposed to explain to anyone that in the span of my pregnancy, other women would have had gone through having their own children and grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. People in the village, in my old life...they would all have passed away before the time I'd ever give birth...isn't that just strange?_

_It's almost cruel, isn't it, Tatsuki? One hundred years is a very long life for someone like me while you...you never had a chance to even be presented with the opportunity to live longer and experience having your own family_.

With one last sniff she closed her eyes and leaned further into the embrace of the goddess, hearing beneath her ear the steady pulse of Rangiku's heart, feeling beneath her cheek the warmth of Rangiku's skin.

Orihime felt she was still that sacrifice offered by the village seemingly so long ago. Just as she had accepted that fate, just as she had accepted the hatred and gift of amendment of the Goddess of Autumn, just as she had accepted the love of the God of Death, just as she had accepted that those lives in Karakura were forever lost, she would also accept this term of one hundred years, this sentence of being the bearer of a future god. Hadn't she decided on this child and the rest of her life to be the memorial to her former life just three days ago?

_For Tatsuki, for my brother, for Karakura, for the love I have for Ichigo, I will bear this. My promise._

On this decision she finally opened her eyes, becalmed, resolute, and feeling just a little bit drained.

From her periphery as she looked above the trees had grown farther apart, making room for more view of the sky, noticing that the river was widening, flowing out into a large lake surrounded by small mountains. In the midst of it, she could see an island, centred by flowing hills, lush with greenery and great stones. Blocks of buildings blended with the foliage, harmonious in their designs, and among the columns evenly scattered where the island met the water were multitudes of statues. Flora of all colour lay at the effigies' feet, never rising to entwine about the figures as though some sort of unspoken law barred them.

For a moment, Orihime felt as though she was back at the house of the Death God or even back at the cemetery of Karakura. There was only the air of stillness and silence, reminding her of what had come to be home for her.

Her tears and fears seemed to have slipped away from her at that thought, and she felt Rangiku's arms loosened around her, the goddess releasing a sigh, or it might have been the whisper of a name passing her lips. The goddess turned away and rose, giving Orihime a smile that did not reach her blue eyes, and strode towards a Scribe with a tray of goblets upon his hands to take comfort with the contents of a cup.

Puzzled, and more than a little curious, Orihime rose as well and turned back to view the island.

"This is where the Council of the Seasons is always held," explained the God of Knowledge as he came to stand beside her. He swept his arm out. "Behold the Isle of Memory. It holds within the mundane data of weather and schedules for storms and sunny days, the great library of the oldest stories told of the gods, the home to the Scribes, and most importantly, the resting place of all the gods that have passed."

Sharply, at the last, Orihime turned to face him, breath held in her chest, the thought of this adding to the list of things difficult to comprehend that had been bombarding her. "A-are you saying this island is also a graveyard?"

Shrewd grey eyes glanced sidelong at her as the god fanned himself. "The statues." He indicated with his other hand. "That's what we become when our time is sundered."

As the boat closed the gap, Orihime could make out that not all the statues have uniform human shapes. Some of them were twisted in some sort of half-human half-animal amalgamation.

_Become? They are not quite monuments for their dead, then_, realized Orihime. _They themselves _are_ the dead_. Sadness filled her heart as her gaze roamed over the still, pale figures, standing like stone angels, their own gravestones and graves. Even so, as with the cemetery in Karakura, she was struck by an absolute sense of emptiness.

A question formed in her mind, and she couldn't help voicing it out. "What happens afterwards?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"When a god dies, what becomes of his power?"

"He loses it, of course. He has become nothing. I've seen the process myself, been fortunate enough to study it, and I must admit it that if you were to witness it yourself, it would not be an agreeable experience. You see, his bones and his power liquefy, excretes from his mouth and covers his whole body, hardens around him like a shell, and you see before you all that's left. There is no after. We sense them disappear from our lives. Even the God of Death doesn't know what happens to a human's soul after he had performed konso; even less so when he does the same to a fellow god and brings them here." Sighing out a small laugh, Urahara covered his mouth with his fan. "Strange that for all my curiosity, I haven't mustered the courage to know what exactly lay beyond the death of gods. I would find out eventually anyway, when I die. But somehow, 'nothingness' seems to be the only answer that comes to mind."

_Nothingness. Emptiness_. 'There is no after,' Kisuke had said. What a strange dichotomy to contemplate: on the one hand she had been overwhelmed with the discovery that she would spend the next hundred years housing a life within her body, and on the other she was presented with what would become of her in the future.

_Death_. There was a tug against her heartstrings, and in her heart amidst the sadness there blossomed elation and relief, and she sensed a presence, a power, that she had been longing to feel since yesterday. _Ichigo! I-is he really there?_ She could barely contain the excited thrum that pervaded her being at the thought of seeing him again.

Much to Orihime's relief, the boat finally halted against a great dock on the side of the island, the gods of the seasons disembarking and making their way to the winding path of stone stairs that led to the atrium where their council with the Goddess of Time was to be held.

"Would you like to see the island, madam?" The God of Invention and Knowledge offered his hand, one foot already on the dock.

_Is it alright? Aren't we supposed to go to the mortal world?_ wondered Orihime, glancing around at the remaining passengers. Rangiku, for once, was reserved, sitting in a corner with her gaze away from the island, not even bothering to flirt with Hisagi. Rukia and Renji have already followed after the other gods, taking a road opposite towards the statues.

As though he had read the questions foremost in her mind, the tow-headed god winked. "We have plenty of time to reach our destination, so a visit here would not be harmful. And I'm sure you've already sensed something worthwhile to find here."

At that, Orihime's pulse jumped, and accepting the confirmation of the presence she had felt, took the god's proffered hand and allowed herself to be led away.

* * *

His sharp claws dug deeply into his palms as he clenched his fists. Ichigo knew that he should know better; that he ought to be more in control of himself. But, after the harrowing events of the past couple of days, he couldn't help the immeasurable longing and fear that gripped him, especially after the message the God of Invention and Knowledge had sent him of the journey the other gods would take today with Orihime and whom else would join their company.

A glimpse—a small, far away, glimpse of Orihime—that was all his heart wanted. He had to know she was safe. Even the knowledge that Neliel—as an important ambassador of the Spirit King and therefore would be primary witness should Senna mete out any harm or foul to Orihime and was allowed to act as judge against the gods—was going to be there was not enough to alleviate his worry.

His mask in place, his long white hair swayed with the cool breeze, and with an implacable expression greeted the gods of seasons as they ascended the stairs. He felt his heart almost stop at the sight of Neliel happily skipping hand in hand with Senna.

"Ichigo!" exclaimed the Goddess of Time, waving exuberantly as she released Senna and ran all the way up to throw her arms around him, laughing gaily and girlishly all the while.

"Neliel." He gave a nod in greeting, and she wiggled her finger at him disapprovingly as she stood back.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"How are my sisters?"

"You're not even going to ask about me? How rude."

"I can see for myself that you seem to be doing well."

Pursing her lips, she curled her fist and playfully knocked on his masked forehead. "I would congratulate you, but I would have to say that with that kind of attitude it's a wonder that your bride agreed to marry you at all." Leaning in, she jabbed her elbow at his side and whispered, "I like Orihime, by the way. Well, since you're here, I might as well go through with the formalities." She straightened herself and cleared her throat. "By the order of our supreme Sun God, I am charged with cordially inviting your bride to his presence in the sky. Do you accept?"

Ichigo couldn't help swallowing. _Here it comes, another separation_, he thought. But then, there were no other place safest from any kind of harm than the realm of the Spirit King, and if he could keep Orihime as far away from Senna as possible, even it was far away from Ichigo's own self, then he would readily accept.

"The Spirit King greatly honours us, and I accede to this invitation." His yellow-on-black eyes drew away from the Messenger to the figure a little behind her, facing the Autumn Goddess's amused challenge.

"Wonderful," said Neliel with a clap, making her way down to clasp arms with solemn Byakuya and serious Toushiro to lead them back up to their destination. "Come, all. We'll see you later, then, Ichigo."

"What, no love for me, Neliel?" asked the Kyouraku with an exaggerated pout, nodding to the Death God as he passed by.

"I only have two arms, God of Summer. You'll have to make do on your own, I'm afraid."

Their voices faded as their banter continued up the stairs, leaving the God of Death and the Goddess of Autumn alone.

With a mocking curtsey, Senna reached into her basket and produced a blood red apple. "My wedding gift," she said, ascending so that she stood on the same step as him.

With the fruit still in her hand, she continued, "I've made amends with your bride, if you must know, and she had accepted my gift and offer of friendship. You should have seen how readily she ate the apple I gave her. You can sense for yourself, can you not? That she's alive and unharmed?" Chuckling at his prolonged lack of response, she faced forward and kept on heading up the steps, and he turned, watching the sway of her hips and the graceful curve of her back as her figure headed up.

Something inside him remained suspended in suspicion and fear, still and watchful even as she threw the apple over her shoulder.

Despite himself, he caught the fruit in midair, then immediately dropped it as his mere touch seemed to seep the life out it, watching it shrink and rot at his feet, leaving behind only a dead and decayed core.

_What kind of a gift is that?_

_Wait—Orihime had accepted this?_

* * *

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

A/N: Thank you very much for your continued support, everyone! I really appreciate you all taking the time to read/subscribe/favourite/review this fic of mine, and I always do keep in mind any questions/suggestions/theories you posted and try to include answers within the text proper. And I am really floored that this fic reached over 800 reviews. WOW! That's really, tremendously amazing, thank you so much (now let's go for 1000 reviews to keep my muse happy and wouldn't leave me for long periods of time LOL).

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Random notes: yes, I make this fic up as I go, including the hundred year pregnancy ^_^ Some of the stuff I put down have been planned ahead of time and some stuff are made up on the fly as I write; the fun is in figuring out how to keep them cohesive. There is a direction I'm heading (one of the planned ones from way back in May 2011 when I realized that that's where the ending would be going and which I've written a rough draft on).

APPENDIX

Senna - Goddess of Autumn (filler character from Bleach: Memories of Nobody movie)  
Grimmjow - God of Destruction  
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Neliel - Goddess of Time, Messenger of the Sun God  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World  
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon  
Byakuya - God of the Night and Spring  
Toshiro - God of Winter  
Shunsui - God of Summer

Thanks for reading :)  
May/2013


	26. wound

**Chapter 26: Wound**

* * *

Disembarking unto the embowered isle, she gently slipped her hand from the towheaded god's hold and sent him a small smile of gratitude. Kisuke inclined his head in acknowledgment, and led her up on to the road proper, his pace matching her slow, albeit hesitant, steps.

At the fork, Orihime faltered, half-deriding herself for being so incumbent in her abject need to see her husband. There were so many things she wanted to say to him; but she could feel fear settle in her heart as her mind was plagued by the question of whether Ichigo would be just as willing to see her, especially this soon. For all she knew, what brought him to this island was business, the death of someone, perhaps. Not exactly because she happened to land here in her journey with the other gods.

She remembered back in Karakura the Tachibana couple who lived next door to her and her brother. They were notorious for always being the talk of the village what with their constant quarreling. It was no secret that Mr Tachibana had a pair of wandering eyes that equaled his pair of wandering hands. Mrs Tachibana was not at all afraid to voice her displeasure at this and the fights that resulted from his errant ways shook the thatched roof and the thin walls of the house next door.

But Orihime had never been vocal; rather there had never been such a time that she could recall being displeased enough to warrant such a show of behaviour. With such friends as Tatsuki and Chizuru, whom had never hesitated to demonstrate what they disapproved of or otherwise, Orihime had never really felt the need.

And at the core, the situation she found herself in was entirely different from the Tachibana's. The Death God's pre-marital relationship was not to be equated to Mr Tachibana's inability to be constant to his wife. She had met her husband's former paramour, had even resolved to be friendly and even accept a wedding gift from the woman. Bygones were to be bygones with such an act, she'd decided. Right? Nevermind that the two former lovers had a hand in the macrocosm of the fate that befell Karakura. What was now between the three of them only affected each individual, and not the lives of many.

Or so Orihime would like to believe.

It was still difficult for her to think of herself as someone who could have the fate of mortals in her hands, being a mortal herself once.

She tried to keep her hands from drumming against her thighs, but it wasn't easy. Since Orihime had come to live in the gods' domain, even before she had been changed, she hadn't been able to keep a proper track of time the way she had been able to in the mortal world. Staying in the God of Life's house and having to spend nights that lasted longer as a favour from the God of Night and Spring certainly did not help. What ever circadian rhythm she might have been used to had gone awry, always having to mentally readjust herself to the elongated hours of night, and as a result, even though the last time she had seen her husband had only been yesterday morning, it felt as though it was longer, perhaps not as long as forever though it truly felt agonizingly like it.

She thought back to the way they parted. The atmosphere had been heavy; in her heart there was grief, confusion about the situation between Ichigo and Senna that had only been alleviated with the story behind it from one point of view, and the yearning to see what exactly it was that she had left behind, what exactly it was that came from her sacrifice.

What she had come to realize was that this whole situation was a cause of shame for Ichigo, something drastic enough that he felt as though he couldn't face her. It pained her to see that her marriage was already in an estranged state—not as drastic as Mr and Mrs Tachibana's, perhaps—but having felt the Death God's presence here in this island, she felt a flutter of hope in her belly. He yearned as much for her just as much as she did for him. Or so at least she would like to think.

Her heart fluttered inside her chest, threatening to soar away from her.

_He's here_ was all that ran through her mind. Close by, a presence she could touch with her growing sense of power. She wanted some form of contact; she wanted to be held, and to hold in turn. Their previous parting was not on good terms, but over all throughout the journey she'd been through yesterday, she realized that her feelings of grief and upset had not really been directed towards him. He might have been at the root cause, and even though he had not been a long fixture of her life thus far, she was unwilling to relinquish her growing reliance on him.

Amidst her being a sacrifice, she had found stability in him, a day by day routine that unbeknownst to her had actually enabled her to cope with the many changes in her life, and she had come to the decision to repay him with her love, hadn't she?

Nonetheless, dread settled in her belly like lead weights, halting her steps. As thoughts swam and scattered inside her mind, her eyes roamed the island they'd landed in. Large pots of flowers were lined along the terrace overlooking the lake, spanning the perimeter of the island. They filled her vision in bursts of colours she had no name for, and she couldn't help but drink in the tranquility they exuded.

Beside her, the God of Invention and Knowledge was but a shadow, present but silent, leaving her to her thoughts even as he seemed to have distracted himself with a walking cane he'd produced from his coat.

Part of her wanted to move forward ahead to where she could sense the Death God to be, but the other part held back, remembering his message to her. He had said that he felt as though he couldn't face her yet. Did he still feel so? Would she be intrusive of his decision by refusing his wish to not see her? What should she do? Should she still seek him out? Could she stand it if he was displeased if she did so?

Hands shaking, she curled them on her skirt to still them, deciding to distract herself by wandering through the Isle of Memory as she weighed the pros and cons in her mind.

Statues lined them upon the road. Gods whom had already passed, she'd been told, their power erupting out of them and encasing them in their very own tomb. Orihime couldn't help but shiver at that prospect. Now that she was one of them, this would eventually happen to her. Preserved for all eternity in an external liquefied bone rather than as a rotting corpse within the earth like the rest of the humans in the mortal world.

With a start, she remembered her first glimpse of the Death God in person; she had mistaken him for a statue as he waited for her arrival at his dock. All in white as the rest of these statues save for the black markings on his mask, and the only splash of colour and indication that he was alive were the pair of yellow eyes that peered at her from beneath the mask.

She found the realization astounding: how his white form mirrored the images of death that spread out around her in an orderly line, everyone set upon their proper places, much like the row of tombstones in the cemetery in Karakura. This—all this—was what he truly presided over. The end of life—and as the God of Invention and Knowledge remarked earlier—there was nothing beyond the end, beyond death. Save for memories and the monuments to those memories.

Orihime couldn't help the slight stagger in her steps, a hand reaching out to her side to lean against a statue as she paused to collect herself. Beneath her hand, the stone was cool to touch, the hard and uncompromising surface a reminder that the life and thoughts and blood that used to run beneath this stone that made this god alive had long since dispersed, leaving behind just an empty shell and a name that might spark joy or grief in the heart of another god.

She turned her head, gaze roaming over features that she was surprised to find she recognized: it was almost the spitting image of Rukia.

"Ah, that's Hisana." The voice of the God of Knowledge and Invention broke through the silence. "As you can likely surmise from the obvious resemblance, she had been sister to the Goddess of Snow and wife to the God of Spring and Night."

Overwhelmed, Orihime could offer no response, just a small bow of her head, and she began to walk again. As though a dam broke, Kisuke saw fit to name each statue they passed, now and then commenting snippets of what that god did or what kind of relationship he or she had had with another deity. Here was the blind God of Justice. There was the God of Wolves. Here was the god who loved nothing more than to fight the strongest, mortal and god alike, and there was the child goddess who was always at his side.

There was no end to them. Line and rank were equal in their death, even as they came to the first death that the Death God himself had to usher.

"Masaki," said Kisuke, "Goddess of the Home and Family. Wife to the God of Life. Mother to the God of Death."

A cheerful woman with unseeing stone eyes gazed gently on Orihime, her hair wavy, her eternal smile welcoming and gentle.

Within Orihime's chest there was a sinking feeling: regret and grief mingled. "I wish I could have known her," she whispered, voice hoarse from her prior ensuing silence. _Maybe she would've been able to give me guidance on how to read the Death God's heart_, she thought. _I hope she would've approved of me_.

Mustering a smile, she gathered her skirts and bent in a curtsey. "Nice to meet you," she said, then straightened and looked to the staircases that led up to the rest of the island.

_He's up there, somewhere_, she thought, biting her lips and willing to steady the sudden pounding of her pulse. Orihime didn't know who she could pray to, but she prayed even so. _Please. Please let him be willing to see me. Please don't let him reject me_.

_Please, Ichigo_.

_I miss you_.

* * *

_No_...

He fell to his knees, hands curling into fists on the ground, sharp nails digging into the white, hardened skin. If Senna was speaking the truth about Orihime accepting and consuming that goddess's gift, then _this_ shriveled, dead thing before him—with one measly minuscule touch from him, _this_ could be what would become of Orihime. So then, through all this time as he succumbed to his fear of loss, _her_ revenge was of him to be the cause of that loss.

His hands unfurled, looking for all the world like the gnarled branches of an ashen tree, tipped with sharp claws that could easily draw Orihime's blood if he so much as touched her, or drain it all and leave her as an empty husk of skin if this apple was any indication.

So that was it? A few weeks of longing, a few weeks of bliss, and then it was all gone.

Their separation now would have to be prolonged; the time when he could easily touch her had passed. It was as though they were back in Karakura when she was still a human and ignorant of his presence always close by her side. A longing so sweet and heady and laden with an underlying intense sorrow.

Cruel, yes, it was cruel. To have received the taste of how it was to truly feel, to have become something more than the embodiment of his psychopomp duty, to have changed because she entered his life...and the one person that had brought her to his attention had just as easily severed that connection. For all that he feared that that outside interloper to be the one to place harm to Orihime, it was himself that he truly should have feared. _He_ was the one who would bring her end, as he would bring about the end of everyone. It was what he was: the inevitability he represented, even in spite of the longevity of a god's life.

He wanted to scream, to let his frustration erupt out of him in waves of voice and breath, but that wouldn't accomplish anything, not even to make him feel better. All it would show was the Goddess of Autumn's power over him. All it would show was that he had lost, utterly and irrevocably, to her. He couldn't give her that satisfaction. _He mustn't_.

He felt broken. And how easily he broke, with just a simple gift from the Goddess of Autumn. Oh how her gifts were laced with torturous humour.

Ichigo's ears prickled with the sound of footsteps on the marbled stone steps, the brush of Orihime's voice filling his ears, and he couldn't help closing his eyes as the sound of it caressed his heart, feeling his chest closing in.

This wasn't over yet. He would a find a way around it. Find a way to keep her alive, just as he'd promised himself when she was still mortal. If it meant staying away from her. If it meant never feeling her skin against his and the whisper of her living breath against his lips—then so be it.

But first things first.

He straightened, face beneath the mask all at once impassive and yearning, drinking in the sight of her as she ascended the stairs to where he stood. Seven steps from him she stopped, and he relished seeing her chest heave from the climb, seeing evidence that she was still alive, seeing her fingers flutter on the fabric of her skirts or intertwine together, never stilling. Longing filled him: he wanted to stopper her nervousness by taking her hands in his, communicating through his touch that there was no need for her to feel that way towards him. But his touch now seemed to have become a palpable danger to her.

"Hello," she greeted, a tremour in her voice.

Beneath the mask he closed his eyes, cherishing the gentle sound of it, feeling the telltale jump in the beat of his heart, soothing him from his feeling of unrest, hardening his resolve.

When he opened his eyes, he sought the other presence he felt nearby. "Kisuke," he called out, flinching inside as he caught the look of dejection on Orihime's face. _I'm sorry_, he thought. _But there's something I have to know first._

The God of Invention and Knowledge popped out from where he hid behind a pillar on the stone steps. "Yes, Mr Death, sir?" he responded, grey eyes hooded beneath his hat, unscrupulously filing away Ichigo's lack of acknowledgment to his wife's presence for later perusal and gossip with other gods.

Wasting no time for niceties, the God of Death and the Moon pointed to the object at his feet. "What do you make of this?"

"Hmm," replied Urahara as he made his way closer, using his cane to poke and prod at the decomposed fruit on the ground. "A gift from Senna, I take it?"

"Yes."

Whatever was left of the core disintegrated under Urahara's walking cane, and from behind, Orihime drew close to them out of curiosity, still smarting from Ichigo's lack of response to her greeting. That he had not sent her away was something she found herself taking comfort in. _Just to be near him is enough_, she thought in an attempt to console herself, unable to help sending him a wounded gaze.

All three crouched, scrutinizing the gift of the Goddess of Autumn.

Pulling a glove from within his coat, Urahara donned it and picked up a small seed from amongst the remains and held it up to his eye, and then to his nose, sniffing. "It's a wish," he said, after a fashion.

"A wish?" repeated Ichigo.

"Specifically, Senna's wish regarding you. It contains her malice and ill feelings towards you."

The Death God swallowed, gears of thought swirling in his mind. "Just me?" he asked, eyes flickering briefly towards his wife before looking to the other god.

Urahara nodded. "Just you."

"What did she wish for?"

The towheaded god glanced between the seed and Orihime, then back to him. "Your fear."

Yellow-on-black eyes were directed to the auburn-haired young goddess, meeting her worried gaze. He broke contact, looking to Kisuke once more. "Senna said she had also given the same kind of apple to Orihime. Does it contain the same wish?"

"It's hard to say. I would surmise that not all her apples contain her wishes. It would depend on the colour, I imagine." He produced the gift he had been given from the recesses of his coat, a shiny green apple, still uneaten. He pulled the curved head of his cane from its base, revealing a hidden blade, and proceeded to slice his apple in half, digging out a seed from its core with one hand as the other sheathed the blade. Likewise with this seed he performed the same perusal as the previous. "This one is empty," he concluded, holding it out to the Death God.

"Empty?"

"No wish is contained within it."

With reluctance, Ichigo plucked the seed from Kisuke's fingers, holding his breath as he waited. _Nothing_. He frowned, heaving a disappointed sigh as he lowered it to the ground, seeing the half of the fruit that it had come from. He nodded to it. "May I?"

Urahara, never one to deny his own curiosity and wanting to see for himself what would happen, waved a hand. "If it pleases you, Mr Death, sir."

Gingerly, Ichigo picked up one of the green halves, unsurprised yet disappointed to find that it did not produce the same result as his own red apple, and set it back down on the ground. His gaze fell to Orihime, silent all this while, his chest constricting at the thought of what could happen if he so much as reach over to stroke her hair.

"And yours?" He finally addressed her, watching as her eyes lit up even at this gesture. His heart thundered at seeing the small smile at the corner of her lip, instantly dissolving the worry in her glance.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a half-eaten blood red apple, and he felt his heart plummet at the sight. Closing his eyes, he swallowed, pulling back down the bile and the fear that lingered in his throat. With an excruciating amount of effort he forced his voice to not reveal his fears. "Kisuke, what do you make of it?"

The towheaded god turned to Orihime, his hand held out. "May I, madam?"

Wordlessly she placed the apple in his grasp, and he wasted no time in reaching inside for a seed. Almost immediately, he said, "There _is_ a wish."

Ichigo's head turned to his so fast, fists closing at his sides. "What is it?" His voice was coarse, shaking with a growing rage he could barely control. From his periphery he saw Orihime reach out to him, and though it wounded him he was grateful that her touch never reached him.

Puzzlement sparked in the God of Invention and Knowledge's grey eyes. "She wished for Orihime to wish for your child to be born into the world."

"What?! I don't understand." Ichigo sat back on his haunches and ran a hand over his mask. _What's with Senna? What is she planning? Had she seen something in her mirror? Something to do with my child?_

Picking up the two other seeds, Urahara swirled all three in his palm. "Compared to the one she gave you, this one contains no negative feelings at all." Grey eyes watched him shrewdly, then the towheaded god threw Orihime's apple to Ichigo. It was dangerous, he knew as he watched him fumble with the fruit, to tease the god so while in his white form, but he was comforted by the thought that no harm would come to him since Orihime was present. He was certain that with her being there and with such unresolved issues looming between them, the Death God had other things on his mind and thus would not entertain the thought of hunting Kisuke down. Nevertheless he quickly made himself scarce, quickly flash-stepping out of there, leaving the two alone.

Ichigo panted, fingers and palm shaking as he stared at the apple in his hand, breath held as he watched as nothing happened to it. For a few long seconds, he waited still before finally setting it down on the ground beside its rotted mate.

_Nothing happened to it_, he thought as colour began to seep onto the tufts of fur on his wrists, orange staining his white hair. _I touched it and nothing happened. Orihime—_

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he took his mask off and reached over and pulled Orihime to his chest, swallowing her gasp with his mouth, one hand tangling in her hair as the other wrapped around her waist. He felt her arms snake tightly around his neck, felt her bridge the remaining gap between their bodies, felt the very pulse of her life inside her chest against his.

A relieved smile pulled at the edges of his lips, still pressed against hers, feeling her answering smile. "Hello," he breathed against her lips, unwilling to part, heady with the sensation of losing themselves to each other.

"Have I told you how much I missed you?"

* * *

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

A/N: Thanks as always for your continued support, old and new readers alike! Sorry to keep you guys waiting D: Blame my muse that keeps on giving me ideas for—and thus inciting me to write—other fics instead of concentrating on this one. Also blame my laptop for that one night where it wouldn't let me open my files for this fic or access the internet to get to this site to actually write this chapter. I blame that automatic Windows update that screwed around with how my laptop usually functions. It was hell. I wound up handwriting a good bulk of this chapter in one of my notebooks and then transfer it to the laptop when it finally decided to be cooperative (and thank goodness as otherwise I would've had to start saving up to buy a new laptop and that could take a while). So in essence I had to write this chapter twice. Ah the good old days when that was the norm and wouldn't necessitate me complaining about it. Technology. Pfft. Only good as long as it worked.

So, in gratitude for your patience, I hope you liked the long chapter and this bonus:

The Bride of the Death God Random Q&A time (that may or may not happen again)

**_What happened to the lemons?_**  
In order to keep this fic here in this site, I had to edit them out. You can read the chapters with the lemons in my livejournal (link in my profile).

**_Will there be another lemon coming soon?_**  
I hope so. The thing is is that sometimes due to plot Ichigo and Orihime have a habit of not being in the same room or scene, so it makes it impossible to write about them getting it on. And since this is set in a time where there are no telephones/cellphones, they can't do phonesex and such. I mean, there are the butterflies that they use for messages, but that would be really awkward especially if they're intercepted by another character...

**_What century does this fic take place in?_**  
I never really saw this fic as set in this world in particular, so centuries based on the history of planet earth is considered not applicable.

**_What about Ulquiorra and the heart thing?_**  
Well, in chapter 14 Ulquiorra did tell Ichigo it's going to happen in seven days. Since then, only a couple of days have passed.  
(Yeah I know. A dozen chapters already and it's not even close to that seventh day.)  
(Ahahaha...er, sorry, I guess?).

**_Will X character appear?_**  
I don't really know. If I can find a place for them, then maybe. Heck it took me a while to figure out what happened to Ichigo's sisters. And even Nel's appearance surprised me. And then when she wrote herself into the story a lot of things suddenly made sense and more pieces of the plot puzzle formed. So I guess it depends if they're necessary to the plot.

_**Why did you pick Senna to be the antagonist?**_  
First, I apologize to the Senna fans. I know the way she's characterized here isn't really something that's likeable.

...huh...well okay here's a bit of history: chapters 1-5 were written concurrently together (hence why they were published within days of each other), and I was doing a lot of back and forth between the chapters, writing and editing them at the same time. When I was writing the flashbacks, I only had an inkling of what they were about and where they were headed (the part where as a writer you feel like you're only the instrument in which the story is being used to be told and you make discoveries as you go...damn do I miss those times), and at the time the "goddess" was someone I was still trying to figure out, and I was trying to keep the choices down on who she could be on shinigami characters only (chapter 5's flashback wasn't written until that chapter was almost finished and chapter 3 where the "goddess" first appears had already been published, and so when Grimmjow was introduced in 5 I broke my "god characters = shinigami only" rule (I must caveat that Uryu had always been exempt from this rule)).

The option had come down between Rukia and Senna. I remember settling on one and editing the attributes in the part where she first appeared only to change my mind and rewrite those parts all over again. In the end I didn't pick Rukia because there are already a lot of fics where she's the third point of the love triangle and I wanted something different for a change, not to mention I have a soft spot for RenRuki. Senna ended up being the antagonist mostly because of my dislike of anime fillers *lol* — and it didn't help that there wasn't much of Orihime in Memories of Nobody, and I remembered not enjoying the movie that much because the whole time I was wondering when Orihime would appear and whether there were going to be any Ichigo/Orihime moments but instead we got a bunch of Senna/Ichigo moments (which, yeah, makes sense because the movie was about her. But still, didn't mean I get to like it).

Senna being made a bad guy here was more out of necessity because this kind of story requires a figure like Nakbin (for those who've read The Bride of the Water God, you know what I'm talking about) or Gaston (Beauty and the Beast). Nakbin and Gaston are the type that you just can't help but hate for being the kind of characters that they are. And I don't want Rukia to be disliked in this story. She's awesome, and she's a great friend to both Orihime and Ichigo in canon, and I didn't want to ruin that. Senna unfortunately had to be that sacrifice.

Thinking about it now, Loly would probably have been the better choice for the antagonistic goddess and her history of being such a bitch to Orihime worked in her favour. But I had that very shortlived rule of "god characters = shinigami only" so she wasn't even considered to be in the running. And this fic is already too far along to have such a drastic switch of characters, especially a main one at that.

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

APPENDIX

Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god  
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Isshin - God of Life  
Senna - Goddess of Autumn  
Hisana - Goddess of Flowers (deceased)  
Tousen - God of Justice (deceased)  
Komamura - God of Wolves (deceased)  
Kenpachi - God of Strength (deceased)  
Yachiru - Goddess of Sweets (deceased)  
Masaki - Goddess of Home and Family (deceased)  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon

* Reviews are appreciated! They greatly contribute to getting the next chapter out faster ;)  
So if you want to know what's coming next, please review.

Thanks for reading :)  
Oct/2013


	27. display

**Chapter 27: display**

* * *

The boat bore away from the Isle of Memory, less merry now that most of its passengers have been left behind on the island. A dismal atmosphere hung over the air: the Goddess of Love and Fertility was still lost in her grieving silence, and the two Scribes-cum-Cupbearers—mindful of the reason, having had to record the account of the incident when it happened—gave her space. Tenseness had crackled in the air when the God of Death accompanied his bride as she boarded the boat, not lost on Rukia, Renji, and Kisuke as they followed shortly after.

It was an old wound: a crack in Rangiku's heart that millennia hadn't entirely mended. She understood that it was not the Death God who had caused her love to die, and she had been avenged when the God of Death himself was ordered by the Spirit King to eliminate the one who killed the Fox God. But it still stung: to have Death have such power over the gods themselves. For Death not to have the power to give back what she had lost. For the gods themselves to not have the power to negate the past. And, if Kisuke was to be believed regarding Orihime, to have one with such power come forth when it was much too late.

There was nothing of the Gin she had known still remaining in the world. All that was left in the Isle of Memory was a hollow statue for a tomb, a fragment of a long-forgotten past. All the things that had made him who he was to Rangiku—his mind, his feelings, the way he spoke, the way he moved, the ever-present deprecating grin—all of them had long since faded away. She now only had her memories and the Scribes' stories to look to when she needed a moment to remember who he had been.

As the island faded in the distance, she felt the heaviness lift, she felt the warmth of the sun on her skin again, the tingle of a breeze as it wafted on her hair. Rangiku came to herself, attentive now to her surroundings, taking in the murmur of conversations from the other passengers.

"Will you be joining us when we reach wherever we're going?" she heard Orihime ask Ichigo.

"I can't," he answered, sifting her hair through his pale fingers. "There's business for me in Junrinan, where you're going, so it's convenient to simply ride along."

"Oh." The former human tried to mask her disappointment with a sigh.

Seeing this, he amended, "I'll make sure to drop by wherever you are once I've taken care of things there before I leave for the next place I have to visit."

Her gaze dropped to her lap, fingers wringing on the fabric of her skirt. "Oh, you don't have to go out of your way if you're busy."

"I'm not going out of the way at all."

"But..."

"You don't want me to come?"

Whatever further protests were brewing in her dissipated, hands fluttering, catching what they could of him as though she couldn't bear the thought of being apart once again, even for only a short period of time. "I'd very much like it if you would. If you really don't mind, that is."

"I don't mind at all."

A smile pulled at Rangiku's lips at the sight, feeling her chest expand, and she recognized pride amongst the emotions swirling within her. Love was, after all, under her dominion, no matter the point that it was physical love, and the two before her displaying such high affection for each other was enough to make her feel as though she'd done a great job.

No, she didn't begrudge the Death God finding love for himself. Indeed, she considered it as a mark of accomplishment to see that he himself was capable of falling for someone. She could only hope that it would last longer than her own relationship had been.

* * *

The bustling of the lush city of Junrinan amazed Orihime, having been used to the quiet, more sedate and slow village life. While she had been aware that once upon a time she and her brother lived in the faraway city of Inuzuri before he took her and ran away from their parents, she had been much too young to remember what that former life had been like. Even this early in the morning, the streets through the market place en route to the Deities' Quarter were already teeming with people, plying their wares, opening their stalls to sell all kinds of things, from the fresh catch of fish to charms to ward off misfortune. She turned, gazing all around her in delight, gripping the Death God's arm with both of hers, only just a slight bit perturb at the constant traffic of people that passed right through them as though they themselves were merely particles of air.

She recalled yesterday on the return trip from Karakura the God of Knowledge and Invention explaining why they were invisible through the human eye, after having experienced it during her visit to the village: something complicated that had to do with the chemical makeup of gods' skins, something inherent in the cells that housed the gods' powers within their bodies that only the few who had the power of metamorphosis (such as Ichigo, Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, and Neliel) could bypass. Kisuke himself had invented a way that would enable other gods who had no transformative powers, and even the Scribes, to manifest themselves in corporeal form, endowing them with the ability to be able to interact with mortals in person, but as he further explained exactly how this worked, Orihime's head swam in confusion at the complicated terms he used and she could only nod and hum in reply.

Back to Junrinan, they finally reached the Deities' Quarter, proudly bearing myriad temples dedicated to the innumerable gods whose duties presided over the daily lives of the common folk. Hither and yon, intricate columns and sculpted spires rose to the sky, flowers and statues lined the cobbled streets, and mosaics and frescoes depicting the various tales of the gods lined the walls. It made her breath catch as she found herself now living among those very figures that her former fellow humans looked up to. Her steps faltered and her expression fell as the ramifications of Rangiku's words suddenly caught up to her: if Rukia was to paint a picture of the Goddess of Love and Fertility within her own temple, and Orihime was to be in that picture, then countless people who visited the temple would see her and she would be known all over the world.

Wasn't that simply preposterous?

And even though she now was one of them, it was still difficult for her to really take the idea in. She just couldn't imagine anyone building a temple to worship her. What would the villagers of Karakura say should they find out that the one they had sacrificed had been made a goddess? Wasn't her rise to godhood unfair to those who suffered from the plague and survived as well as those whose lives had been lost to the capriciousness of the gods that caused them to die? Would she be seen as someone having as volatile and uncaring an attitude as some of the gods were wont to have? Subjected to their whims, prone to victimize the very people who worshiped them? Being a goddess now, even by association due to her marriage to the Death God, would they really see her as such?

And was there any mortal who had been granted godhood other than herself that she could speak to about these matters? The Scribes would know, surely? She couldn't be the only one.

These powers that she was starting to learn about, powers that were beginning to manifest within her, surely there had been another human who was turned into a god who could teach her how to control it? Teach her how to better transition into this new life she had been thrust into. Someone to show she wasn't alone. And as gods were wont to do, she could pay for the company, for the instruction, with her powers, couldn't she? However, she would only use whatever powers she had for good. She couldn't bear the thought of causing tragedy to someone with the powers that were growing within her.

From her periphery, Orihime saw the Death God's questioning gaze. She had, after all, stopped in the middle of the street, and no doubt he had seen her features transform from delight to despondence, and she could only imagine what he must have thought of her mercurial bouts of mood. Mentally shaking her head at herself, she gave him a big smile and tugged at his arm, and led them through the sea of mortals going about their daily lives to catch up to the group of immortals already farther ahead of them.

Pursing her lips, she was struck by a thought that had been niggling at the back of her mind since the Death God's revelation early yesterday morning. Orihime cleared her throat and delicately approached the subject matter. "You never told me, you know."

Golden-on-black eyes turned to her, curious. "Told you what?"

"What you're to give the God of...Despair, was it? Um, Ulquiorra, I think his name was. In exchange for sending a vision to the elders of my village."

Beneath her hands, she felt his arm tense, and his mask didn't betray any change in his expression. He only blinked, and those eyes of his remained impassive, sliding from her gaze to peer straight ahead to where the parade of their company had nearly disappeared among the throng of people.

Alarmed, she could only hope that she somehow hadn't stepped outside of her bounds in making such an inquiry. Throat suddenly dry, she wished she could take back the question, and she scrounged in her mind for something to say to alleviate the darkening atmosphere between them.

"I-I'm sorry—" she began.

"Later," interjected the Death God in an even voice, his other hand rising to gently squeeze her fingers in reassurance. "I'll tell you about it later. And you have nothing to apologize for, Orihime."

Stepping forward, they continued on, following their companions in silence, the air that surrounded them was in that in-between place of tenseness and calm.

Eventually they reached the steps that led to the temple of the Goddess of Love and Fertility. The short flight up was lined on either side with balustrades that Orihime didn't find all that unusual until she actually took the time to look closely. Each marble baluster was carved differently from the other, lending each of them a different silhouette. They were rather detailed sculptures, Orihime was scandalized to discover upon closer inspection, of human figures in various acts of lovemaking.

Heat crimsoned her face, and she quickly averted her gaze, trying to stop her mind from cataloguing exactly which of the positions depicted in marble she and her husband had already tried out. Vaguely, she wondered if Ichigo was as mortified as she felt, though able to hide it better because of his mask. But she realized as she further thought that he was doubtlessly already used to this place, being already a god who presumably had been around from long before people even thought about building houses of worship dedicated to the gods.

Upon reaching the wide archway that led inside the temple, the God of Death stopped, turning to face her and lifting his mask from his face to perch it atop his head. After running his eyes over her, taking in her still-flushed cheeks, though this time for entirely different reasons, he cupped her chin and tilted her head up to him, giving her a soft kiss, which she returned with great ardour, feeling as though she was melting, her very atoms dissipating with the rush of emotions that encompassed her with every brush of his lips against hers, with every flutter of his fingers as they ran through her hair, her cheek, her neck. As her hands roamed through the strands of the Death God's long hair, each sensation brought an electric spark to her nerve-endings. Both momentarily gasped for air, but were soon submerged in each other again, today's looming separation already a bane that each couldn't comprehend wanting to go through with despite the necessity due to his function as the god of death. Her hands fell to rest on Ichigo's chest, a small nervous flutter making her shiver as she touched the rim of the hole where his heart would have been. Even though she'd touched him in multitudinously intimate ways, this mar always unnerved her, always caused her to be taken aback, if only minutely, something so different and strange, and yet the full proof that her husband was not like what she used to be: not a human, but a god, and the very god whose heart rested in the sky. Beneath his chest, she felt his telltale pulse, the rhythm matching her own heartbeat. She felt the warmth of his skin, the shiver that ran through him as her nails gently scraped along the opening of his robes, as she tenderly pulled at the tufts of fur at his neck, as she traced the black tattoos that seemed to seep out of the hole on his chest.

Finally, they parted. And he, with extreme reluctance as he pulled the mask down over his face once more, bid her farewell and she barely was able to nod in acknowledgement before he was gone in a swirl of white.

_Until later then_, she thought, already feeling the flutter of anticipatory butterflies in her belly for their next meeting.

She was startled out of her stupor by a black cat jumping onto her shoulder.

"Let's get inside," Yoruichi purred in her ear, and Orihime nodded, complying.

The interior of the temple was airy and wide, letting in plenty of sunlight, with carved columns rising up on either side to bear the stone roof overhead. Busts of Rangiku decorated the niches that lined the walls, to which several early morning worshipers have already supplanted themselves in prayer. The air was redolent with lightly spiced and honeyed incense, the heady smell reminding Orihime of the mead that Rangiku had made her drink a few nights prior that resulted in...well...her present expectant condition.

The Cat Goddess perched on her shoulder directed her further into the building, up towards the stairway where the rest of their company was already congregated. Three new figures had already greeted the others at the top: a stern-looking man with short grey hair, a bespectacled woman with her black hair in braids, and another man that gave off a majestic and flamboyant air, flipping his long, purple curls over his shoulder as he watched Orihime and Yoruichi ascend the steps.

Rangiku turned, clapping her hands as she spied Orihime and quickly ran down to drag the younger woman up to where they convened, with Yoruichi bounding off from Orihime's shoulder to land on Kisuke's with a yelp.

"And here she is! Everyone, this is Orihime, the new bride of the Death God!" exclaimed the Goddess of Love and Fertility, taking charge of the introductions. She pointed to the grey-haired man. "That's my Head Priest, Kensei. He's a Scribe that has been granted the great honour of leading my followers."

He wore loose robes that were parted at the front, and Orihime could make out the same numbers that were tattooed on Hisagi's cheek gracing this man's torso just beneath his pectorals. Orihime couldn't help the blush that arose as she realized the implication of having such numbers displayed proudly, especially to one purported to be Rangiku's Head Priest. Was that the mark of all of the Goddess of Love and Fertility's worshipers?

Back when she was a human, there had been talk that it was the custom for young, unmarried women to journey to Junrinan to visit Rangiku's temple prior to their wedding to receive the goddess's blessing. But in such cases as Karakura or any other smaller towns in remote locations, many women find the city too far and oftentimes the roads were swarmed with bandits that the custom became solely reserved for the city-dwellers and those who lived in neighbouring towns. There had been further talk, especially from the older female villagers, of exactly what kind of mass was held at the temple every night: "fertility rituals" were all they would say whilst giving each other winks and nudges, followed by raucous laughter.

The Head Priest dipped his head in acknowledgment as he simultaneously reached out to kiss Orihime's hand, though she couldn't help but notice the slight roll of eyes that he gave his benefactor. "Welcome to the holy temple, my lady."

"Um, it's very nice to meet you, Kensei," the auburn-haired young woman replied, being careful not to stray her gaze anywhere else beneath the man's gaping garment.

"Don't mind his bad attitude, Orihime," said Rangiku in an amused tone, waving dismissively towards her Head Priest. "He's just grouchy since last night had been a very busy one for the temple, and I don't think he's slept a wink yet." The blue-eyed goddess then drew Orihime to the black-haired woman. "And here's my Head Priestess, Lisa, also a Scribe. She's in charge of giving advice to young women who seek deep and eldritch knowledge regarding the pleasures of the flesh. So if you find me unavailable for certain things when it comes to, you know, your marriage bed, you can just seek her out."

Orihime wondered if she had to simply accept the fact that her face would remain in perpetual blush even as she held out a shy hand to the other woman. "N-nice to meet you, Lisa."

"Likewise, my lady," responded Lisa as she curtseyed, peering almost lewdly at her from beneath her glasses. "As our Lady Goddess said, if there's anything you need when it comes to pleasing your husband, or even just yourself, just come to me. Especially if you require a more, hmm, _hands-on_ instruction."

_Er, no, that's okay, thank you anyway_, replied Orihime inside her mind while outside she simply gave a nervous chuckle.

The goddess then strung her along to the third figure. "And last but not least—of course, we saved the very best for last—Orihime, this is," and here Rangiku drew a very deep breath, and then, "the sweet, ultra funky, fantastic, dramatic, romantic, sadistic, erotic, exotic, athletic, perfect, stylish, dangerous, psychedelic, valuable, economical, continental, incredible, unbelievable, shining God of Beauty, Charlotte."

"Enchanté," purred the god, leaning down to kiss both of her cheeks. "I must apologize for not being able to greet you properly when you were introduced to our society a few nights ago, my dear. I was just much too busy; there's so many things in this world that needs beautification. But, well, you're here now, so I can give my wedding gift to you at my leisure." He put a finger to his chin as he peered at her closely. "Not that you really need it, girl, you _are_ beautiful, but all of us princesses can still have our pampering and preening regardless of whether we _need_ it or not. Never ever say no to that."

"Alright!" interjected Rukia, clapping her hands to draw the attention to herself. "So now that everyone knows each other, let's get going. Where's the wall I'm going to be painting?"

Kensei stepped forward. "This way, my lady." And he led the group through the archway beyond the stairs.

In this part of the temple were several open doorways. Orihime only had bare seconds to make out moans and groans coming from one room, managing to see flashes of bare writhing bodies through its door before she was whisked away with her group into—she was extremely relieved to see—an empty room. As with the great room at the front of the temple, this one was wide and airy, lacking any windows or doors to the balcony that overlooked the shining lake that bordered the city of Junrinan. Draperies seemed to be the only furnishings, and these were pulled back to let in the light and air.

And here, as though of the same mind, everyone went off to perform their tasks. Already Renji was setting up Rukia's art paraphernalia on one side of the room, going here and there as she directed him, building her easel and chair, and laying out her various types of paper, brushes, paints, and pencils. The Scribes—the temple ones as well as the temporary cupbearers from the boat—on the other hand, were in the midst of arranging a set as instructed by the God of Invention and Knowledge as well as the Goddess of Cats. From somewhere about his person Kisuke had procured a giant clam shell which the Scribes were dragging to the middle of the floor against the backdrop of the lake, fixing the angle _just so_ just as Rukia came over and gave the set a critical eye, nodding as the shell was finally laid out to her satisfaction. This part done, they went to the side of the room that was still covered with drapes, pulling it aside to reveal the particular wall chosen to be her canvas. The Goddess of Snow and the Arts ran her hands along its surface to feel its texture, and gave the temple Scribes a nod of approval.

On a corner of the room, a vanity had been set up with Rangiku sitting in front of the mirror while Charlotte stood behind her. He was running a bejeweled comb through her hair, and Orihime was amazed to see that Rangiku's hair seemed to lengthen with each brush. She drew closer to watch, wonderment filling her at the magic happening before her eyes. Pretty soon, the goddess's hair was past her knee, and after receiving an exclamation of approval at the length of her tresses, the God of Beauty brandished a long ribbon to bind her waves at the back of her neck. Afterwards, he proceeded to apply makeup upon the goddess's face, giving her a natural, glowing look. He stepped back after he finished, allowing Rangiku to stand and twirl in front of the mirror, peering over her shoulder as she inspected her hair and her face.

"Perfect!" she proclaimed, winking at her reflection and directing a smile at Orihime as she turned. "Your turn."

"M-me?!" the auburn-haired yelped, stepping back in surprise.

"Of course! You agreed to be in the picture with me, remember?"

"B-but—"

"Come on. No need to be afraid. You'll be in good hands with dear Charlotte." The two gods each took hold of her arm and dragged her to sit in front of the vanity. "There! And now I'm off to wardrobe." And then, for some reason, both gods burst out in braying laughter.

"Oh, Rangiku, you're such a joker," the God of Beauty said when he could finally speak, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "But get going already. I still have work to do here. Make this new goddess shine like the moon!"

And so, after blowing them both a kiss, Rangiku ran off to inspect the set piece where she and Orihime were to pose once the other young woman was made ready.

His ice blue eyes twinkled as Charlotte met the auburn-haired's gaze through the mirror. "Well now, my dear. It's just us princesses. Congratulations, by the way. How's married life treating you?"

Orihime could only give him a strained, awkward grin, to which he released a knowing sigh as he rolled his eyes, reaching out to hold a length of her hair with one hand as he ran his magical comb through it with the other.

"Problems already, huh? Knowing your husband, it's not surprising. But hang in there, baby girl. Having heard the rumours about his stamina and his prowess in bed, I would say it's still worth it to put up with for longer." He winked, and Orihime wished she could hide somewhere where nobody would be able to find her.

How exactly was it that everyone seemed to know about her and the Death God's...erm...nighttime activities?

Seeing her expression, Charlotte patted her shoulder. "Oh, sweetie, no need to be shy about it, especially in this temple. Hang around here every night—and well, during the day too if you still have the energy for it—and you will soon lose all your inhibitions. Why, just last night I had the most fantastic orgas—"

"Er, will my hair be long too?" Orihime felt like a heel for interrupting, but she really had never been all that comfortable regarding talks of this nature, not even with her friends from the village when she was still a human. It was bad enough that all the gods and even the Scribes seemed to know just how often she and Ichigo...performed nightly exercises. And even though she now was a married woman, and had certainly experienced quite a bit of the physical aspects of love, she didn't know if she would ever get used to being blasé about openly discussing such private matters in public.

Sensing her discomfort, he went along with the sudden change of topic. "Oh, don't you worry a thing, honey. I got something else in mind for these gorgeous tresses of yours. Just you wait for magic to happen." Charlotte proceeded to part her hair in the middle, separating the shorter layers at the front from the main length at the back. He tied her hair at the back of her neck and sectioned them into two braids, and brought up the thinner braid to wrap at the top of her head like a band. The layers at the front he brushed with his magical comb until they framed her face in waves. Once finished, he applied the same type of makeup on her face to enhance her natural beauty.

"Alright, my dear. You. Are. Gorgeous." He clasped his hands and pointed to his cheek. "Now, give me some sugar and then off you go."

Orihime reached up to plant a kiss on the proffered cheek, then turned around to find the female Scribe, Lisa, waiting for her.

There was something rather leery about the Head Priestess's expression as she perused Orihime. "This way, my lady. We have a gown ready for you."

_Gown?_ thought the auburn-haired, allowing herself to be led out into the hallway to another chamber within the temple. This room seemed to be a bath, with a steaming pool set onto the floor. Off to the side doorway that led into an antechamber, Lisa took her, indicating with a hand the garment that was set aside for her. It was a white gown embroidered with blue flowers, and the sleeves were loose and sheer. Going behind the partition at the corner of the room, Orihime changed, smoothing down the voluminous fabric over her body. As she stepped out, the Head Priestess came over and wrapped a garland of pink flowers under her bust, and another garland of green leaves at her neckline. Once done, the braided Scribe picked up a flower-embroidered cloth and led her back into the room where everyone else was waiting.

Orihime's cheeks coloured as she spied Rangiku already standing on the giant clam shell set in the middle of the room, unabashedly clad in nothing. Her left hand held the tail-end of her vibrant hair over her crotch while her right was splayed on the centre of her chest, hardly able to provide much cover for her bountiful breasts.

"Alright!" shouted Rukia from her perch by her easel, pointing to the Goddess of Love and Fertility's side. "Orihime, take that cloth from Lisa and stand over there on Rangiku's left side. Hold that fabric like you're about to clothe her. And Scribes! Don't forget to wave those giant fans when they're ready."

Orihime did as she was told, trying to avert her gaze from Rangiku's form. _I guess it's a good thing I'm about to dress her up in the picture_, she thought, holding up the fabric as though she was about to throw it over the goddess. Across from her, Hisagi and Kira were frantically waving their fans, making the models' hair and the fabrics billow.

"Great!" yelled Rukia from behind her easel, ready to begin the preliminary sketches of the piece before working on the final version on the wall. "Now, ladies, hold that pose please. My masterpiece is about to begin."

* * *

APPENDIX:

Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon (transforms into the black form, Mugetsu, during the new moon, and into the white form during the nights the moon is visible in the sky)  
Orihime - formerly a human but was made into a goddess following her marriage to Ichigo  
Renji - formerly a Scribe but was made into a god following his marriage to Rukia  
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts  
Kisuke - God of Knowledge and Invention  
Gin - (deceased) God of Foxes and Snakes  
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World  
Ulquiorra - God of Despair and Visions (transforms into a half-human, half-bat)  
Grimmjow - God of Destruction (transforms into a panther)  
Neliel - Goddess of Time, Messenger of the Sun God (transforms into a half-human, half-goat/ibex)  
Yoruichi - Goddess of Cats  
Kensei Muguruma - a Scribe that has been appointed as the Head Priest in the Temple of the Goddess of Love and Fertility  
Lisa Yadomaru - a Scribe that has been appointed as the Head Priestess in the temple of Rangiku  
Charlotte - God of Beauty (Rangiku's adjectives when she introduced him are all from his special attacks in the manga XD )  
Hisagi Shuuhei - a Scribe serving the gods  
Izuru Kira - a Scribe serving the gods

A/N: As can be seen above, starting from chapter 3, each chapter now has appendices that list down the characters that appeared or were mentioned in that chapter, such as the gods and goddesses and what they preside over, and other characters that come straight from the manga or anime that seem obscure.

Also, whilst perusing through the chapters, I've edited the ones where Shunsui appears. He was originally the God of Children's Games, but I've since made him into the God of Summer, so he's solely the latter now.

Thanks to everyone who read/subscribed/favourited/reviewed this fic, and thanks to all the lovely awesome people who've made this story reach over 900 reviews! Really grateful for your wonderful thoughts, questions, and feedback. Without you guys to spur me on to continue writing, I don't think this fic could have gone in the direction it did. So thanks very much to all of you :)

I guess you might be happy to know that the end is coming (finally!). A few more chapters are left, and the issues and foreshadowing will finally come to light and be resolved. Though if it's to anyone's satisfaction will really be up in the air ^^;

So for those curious, the painting that Rukia is about to do is based on Botticelli's _The Birth of Venus_, with Rangiku as Venus and Orihime as the nymph on the right side of the painting.

Please do let me know what you thought of this chapter ^^

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Thanks for reading :)  
Feb/2014


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